Legacies
by wolfraven80
Summary: SethxEirika Sequel to Tarnish. It’s been over three years since the end of the war, but when one of Innes’s informants in Carcino goes missing, what Seth and Eirika discover may shatter the tenuous peace of the continent of Magvel.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

**A/N:** This is a sequel to "Tarnish," my previous Seth/Eirika fic. It's not necessary to have read it to understand this story, but there are spoilers so I do recommend reading "Tarnish" first. For those who did read the first one, glad to see you again. Hope you enjoy ths one too! Reviews are, of course, appreciated.

**ooo**

"Take Eirika and head for Frelia." Those words had chilled her to the bone the moment they had fallen from her father's lips.

"Father, you can't stay– you mustn't!" An icy hand seemed to grip her heart. The life she had known and loved was falling away from her and all she could think to do was clutch at it with what little strength she possessed. "If you remain behind, then so shall I!" she shouted, but her words echoed hollowly off the marble walls of the throne room as her father turned to look away from her and towards the knight who stood at her side.

"Go now, Seth. Ride! Take her to safety!" he told the Silver Knight. And then he turned on his heel and walked away without another word to her, without a goodbye or a smile, with neither a word of reproach nor of encouragement.

With the lucidity that came in dreams on the edge of wakefulness, she knew this was the last time she would see her father. She tried to reach out, to go after him, speak with him– anything– but she was frozen in place and when she called after him, her voice was full of anguish. "Father!" But he was already gone.

"Forgive me, your highness," she heard Seth say an instant before she was swept up in his arms and enveloped by the warmth of his body. She closed her eyes and soon the impression of that warmth was all that remained.

**ooo**

Eirika opened her eyes slowly, fully awake, but feeling the lingering presence of the dream, like an unwelcome guest in her bedchamber. She rubbed at her eyes and tried to root herself in the here and now. It had been over three years since the end of the war, but some moments remained carved into her memory and returned to her with a terrible vividness, like spilled blood that would not dry. Her heart ached at the thought of her father, of her last glimpse of him, marching away out of the throne room, shoulders squared, head held high– the King of Renais to the very last. Always he had loved her, doted on her as a father while, as a King, teaching her to fulfill the obligations of her rank as Princess of Renais. He had said she was a gentle soul, like her mother, and now, when Eirika thought on the war and the blood she had shed for her country, she wondered sometimes if he would still call her so.

The sun was beginning to peek through a gap in the silk bed curtains which had not been fully drawn for, though fall was fast approaching, the days remained comfortably warm even here in Carcino. But the warmth of that pale sunbeam could not compare to the heat that radiated from the man who lay next to her. With his auburn hair mussy with sleep, the muscles of his face a blank mask of relaxation, and one muscular arm folded beneath his head, Seth hardly looked like the great general of Renais, the famed Silver Knight. Instead, he looked liked her entirely human and very much flesh and blood husband.

For a moment, Eirika drank in the sight of him as the encroaching sunbeam gave his skin a lustrous, golden hue, and set his hair aflame, like the gods in the frescoes of the local temple. Her lips twitched at the thought. Her dear Silver Knight, thought so cool and austere, pristine... untouchable... Yet to her, he was nothing other than burnished gold, a little tarnished at the edges perhaps, but full of warmth and gentleness. She leaned into him and tangled her fingers in his fiery mane as she whispered in his ear. "It's time to rise, my love."

His chest rose and fell as he took a deep breath. After a moment, he opened his eyes and hoisted himself into a sitting position. She admired the muscles of his arms and chest as he moved, the sleek line of his collar bone, the perfect curve of his back and shoulders, though, as always, her eyes lingered on the jagged scar where Valter's lance had struck him all those years ago. But then her eyes leaped to his face and the bristly growth on his chin as he yawned. A smile spread over her features. She never told anyone, not even Tana or her brother– it sounded ridiculous, she knew– how much it warmed her heart to see Seth yawn; he never did so when he was on duty, as he seemed always to be save when they were alone. She'd never seen him yawn till the morning after their wedding night.

"You're awfully sleepy this morning," she said, as she, too, sat up. He was usually awake shortly before dawn and was not prone to lounging in bed. She let her fingers trace down his back and smiled as he caught her hand in his and brought her fingers to his lips, sending a shiver down her spine.

"And who might be responsible for that?" he asked, his lips quirking into a wry smile.

"I don't know what you mean," Eirika protested.

"As I recall," he whispered, his voice husky as he leaned close to her, "someone kept me up rather late last night."

She sniffed. "I don't believe a knight of Renais is permitted to address his princess with such impertinence."

"He is when he's in his own bedchambers."

"But if you notice," she countered, "we're not in our own chambers and there's likely to be talk if we continue to lounge all morning."

He cupped her face and smiled. "Ah, well we certainly can't have that, my lady. To think anyone would suspect you of dallying with a simple knight."

She ran her fingers through his hair. "I would never dally with anyone other than my dear husband– who happens to be the _finest _knight in all of Renais." His lips curved into that certain smile of his, the one that made him look like a boy who'd just stolen a kiss from a young lass. When he smiled like that she could almost imagine him as a squire, for, although she had known him before he'd been knighted, her memories were the slightly skewed recollections of a child who'd had to crane her neck to look up at him. But he'd been only a boy, a young man, in those days, and sometimes, when he was particularly pleased, he looked like one once again, if only for an instant.

In a short while they managed to wash, dress, and have a quick bite to eat before heading outside to the corner of the estate grounds that had become their training area. Over the course of the past week, the servants in the city hall of Kartan, Carcino's capital, where she and Seth had been staying, had gotten used to their apparently eccentric habits. It seemed the men and women who made up the Council of Elders were not in the habit of rising at dawn and practising their swordsmanship. Seth and Eirika's morning training sessions had become something of a spectacle to the servants and the few others who happened to be up and about in the early hours of the day.

Though Kartan's city hall could not properly be called either a castle or palace, the edifice was quite large and the grounds, extensive. They had been given to understand that it had once been the private estate of a nobleman who had fallen upon bad times and sold the land to a group of powerful merchants, the forerunners of the Council of Elders. The original building, where the guest quarters were located, had been added on to in order to include rooms suitable for meetings of the Council and the various state functions the Council was responsible for. The original building had been constructed from heavy slate-grey stone and appeared squat and blocky next to the graceful lines of the sprawling additions. With a lithe, pale tower at each corner and a lantern-crowned dome over the central section of the building, the hall towered over the city. It was strange to Eirika to look up at the edifice, so different from Castle Renais, which had been built centuries ago with defence in mind. The city of Kartan, however, would be next to impossible to defend and its grand city hall was certainly not the fortress she expected to see when she visited a foreign capital. But Kartan was inland and the country of Carcino relied on the mountains surrounding it and the network of forts along these to secure its defence.

Turning her thoughts from building, Eirika smiled and breathed deeply of the morning air which was scented with the many flowers that were tended by a small army of gardeners. Though in a few minutes her mind would be entirely taken up by the rhythm of swordplay, as she and Seth walked the cobbled path through the grounds, she allowed herself a moment to admire both the familiar and exotic late summer blooms: plumed celosia, impatiens, globe amaranth, canas, and salvia, all in a brilliant array of red and orange as if the grounds had been overtaken by flames. Walking here at this early hour before the city officials came in for work, it was difficult to believe that they were in the heart of a bustling trade city.

"What is it?" she asked, as she noticed Seth's eyes upon her and the quiet smile on his lips.

He shook his head. "It's nothing."

"Seth," she drawled, one eyebrow raised, "don't make me order you."

"I was only thinking that I'd prefer to admire you than the flowers."

"Flatterer," she said, and, smiling, she grabbed hold of his doublet and tugged him closer to place a kiss on his lips. Time alone together without any guardsmen or servants about was a great luxury and she relished every moment of it. When they parted, she could not help but grin. "I have no intention of going easy on you during our match, though."

Seth's lips twitched, but he managed to say with great seriousness, "Nor I, your highness."

When the path led them to a wide patch of grass, surrounded by a low hemlock hedge, it was difficult not to notice the five or six groundskeepers who had all decided to trim the hedges or tend the patches of flowers at this particular hour of the morning– not to mention the handful of city officials who had decided to take breakfast at an outdoor table in the corner of the enclosure. Eirika sighed and cast a sideways glance towards Seth who shrugged. She supposed it was no worse than when they trained in the courtyard at Castle Renais except that at home people were used to their training and did not make them feel like a spectacle.

Eirika was not unaware of how unusual it was for a princess to be armed. After all L'Arachel was a healer and never wielded anything more threatening than a staff, and Tana, though she kept up her training as a pegasus knight as best she could considering her duties as Queen of Renais, did not appear armed in public. So, too, was it unusual for a princess to spar every day with one of her knights. However, after the events of three years ago, wherein one of their own soldiers had made an attempt on Seth's life, and on hers as well as a result, Eirika had never been able to break the habit of wearing her sword at all times. Truth be told, no one had tried to break her of the habit either and Seth and Ephraim both had been entirely supportive of her decision to continue her training in swordplay.

Once they came to stand in the centre of the green, Seth drew his sword. "Are you ready, my lady?" Though he called her so every day, it was strange to hear him say "my lady" or "your highness" in earnest as he always did in front of others. It was difficult to hear it and keep a straight face when she thought of how he spoke those words with the utmost irony when they were alone. Sometimes, no matter how serious his tone and how sober an air he wore, she still thought she caught a glimmer of amusement in his eyes as he said it.

Taking a deep breath, Eirika tried to clear her mind. For a moment she let her hand rest on her hilt. When she finally drew the sword, her thoughts were as sharp as the blade's edge.

They took cautious steps towards each other. She watched him for any telltale signs, the tensing of muscles before he leaped forward to strike, but Seth's movements were as seamless as ever and she just barely had time to react as he lunged. She parried the blow and countered. His blade blocked the attack easily, but so, too, did she block his succeeding attack. Though he still outclassed her in swordsmanship, after all this time she knew the rhythm of his movements like no other opponent.

The flow of their movements, the steady stream of his attacks and her lightning ripostes, was now a familiar dance. She recognised the precise set of his shoulders before he feinted and when he lunged. She knew the way his body moved, the nimbleness of his steps. Every inch of him was familiar to her, caressed by her fingertips, kissed by her lips.

But he knew her just as well. He knew that speed was her greatest asset and made up for it with his flawless technique and pressed his attack until she was breathless. When finally one of his counters got past her guard and she found his sword point over her heart, she could only marvel at his skill. There was no doubt in her mind that Seth was the finest swordsman in Renais.

"Nicely played!"

Eirika and Seth both turned to look in the direction of the speaker who approached them, clapping politely and smiling broadly. Councilman Gustav, son of Councilman Klimt who had sided with Renais during the War of the Stones, gave a half bow as he came to stand before them. He was a man of middle years with greying chestnut hair and an immaculately trimmed beard. His brocaded jacket with its gold buttons and gold thread scroll work, was conservative compared to the dress of many of the other members of the Council of Elders, particularly its younger members, mostly sons and daughters of the council members who'd been assassinated by Pablo's forces. That the merchants of Carcino _wore_ their wealth had come as a bit of a shock when she'd first arrived, for she had not seen such elaborate garments since her brother's coronation. Upon reflection, she'd realized it was their way of making up for their lack of title.

"Good morning, Councilman," Eirika greeted him, sheathing her sword and wiping her brow.

"You keep early hours, Councilman," Seth added as he brushed back a few strands of hair that were plastered to his forehead. Eirika held back a smile, gratified to see that he had worked up a sweat. It had taken a great deal of training for her to reach a level at which she could provide him with any sort of challenge.

"I was hoping to see one of these matches of yours that I've heard so much about," Gustav said. "I'm quite impressed."

"Thank you," Eirika replied, only now noticing the item, some three feet in length, wrapped in black cloth, tucked under his arm.

"I brought something along," Gustav said. "I hope you'll indulge me a moment." He proceeded to draw away the cloth to reveal an unremarkable sword in a plain leather scabbard. It had a regular crossguard and neither it nor the hilt were ornamented, nor were there any special markings on the blade as he drew it from its sheathe. "Sir Seth, could I impose upon you to try out this blade?"

Seth's brow crinkled in puzzlement, but he nodded. "Certainly." He took the blade from Gustav and held it for a moment. He adjusted his grip on the hilt several time, frowning slightly, and performed a series of basic sword thrusts. With each movement his frown deepened and Eirika did not need to ask to know his opinion of the blade.

"Seth?" she began tentatively.

He shook his head. "Shall we go again?"

"Are you certain?"

His lips thinned to a line, Seth nodded. Gustav cleared out of the way and she and Seth took up position on the green once more. Her heart was hammering against her ribs; the look on Seth's face was not the air of calm concentration she was accustomed to seeing before a match. Eirika did not have to hear him speak the words to know that she needed to keep her guard up. He adjusted his grip on the hilt once more before he looked to her and nodded.

Eirika darted forward and Seth met her blade for blade. The shock of the blow rattled up her arm but she held firm; three years of training had strengthened her grip where once she would have faltered and fallen back. Even so, Seth had the advantage in height and strength and forced her away. She fell back, expecting him to press his attack as he was wont to do in a normal match, but instead he hesitated, taking half a step and then pausing to adjust his grip on the hilt.

She kept her guard up as she spoke. "Seth are you certain..."

"It's fine. Come," he said with a curt nod.

She feinted, but he read her movement and parried the blow that followed. He attacked; she blocked and countered. The steps were the same as always, but the rhythm of the dance had changed from a steady flow to a spasmodic stagger. The timing of his attacks was off; it was slight, but noticeable to her after more than three years of sparring with him. There was a hesitance to his movements that was utterly unknown to him under regular circumstances. When she saw one such moment of hesitation– the slightest pause before a lunge– she took advantage of it and sidestepped. She'd expected him to swing around and counter her attack and she was more than a little shocked when, instead, she found her blade resting at his throat.

Eirika drew her sword away and stepped back."Seth? Are you well?" She kept her eyes on his face as he straightened and squared his shoulders. But the flicker of pain she always glimpsed when the wound from Valter's spear ached, was absent. There had been no hint of stiffness in his movements either, nothing at all to suggest his shoulder was bothering him in the least.

"I'm fine," he assured, his lips curving into a slight smile. His expression turned grim, however, when he shifted his attention to the sword Gustav had lent him.

"I take it," Gustav said as he approached them once again, "that the blade isn't to your liking, Sir Seth."

"It's poorly balanced," Seth announced. "I'd not carry it into battle." He grimaced as he returned the blade Gustav.

If anything, the councilman looked pleased. "It's as I thought. I apologise for imposing on you, Sir Seth, but I wanted to hear an expert opinion on the sword. I'm afraid I'm not knowledgeable enough to judge for myself, nor are my comrades. Most of us only learn to use a duelling blade," he said patting the scabbard of the light rapier at his side.

"May I ask where you obtained the sword?" asked Seth.

"It's of Guernic's make." Gustav's lip curled as he spoke the name.

Eirika frowned. "You mean Councilman Guernic? Pablo's son?"

"Indeed." Though she could hardly hold Guernic responsible for the crimes of his father, it was difficult to hear his name and not recall the atrocities committed by Pablo during the war.

Pablo had assassinated several members of the council in his attempt to gain control over Carcino during the War of the Stones. His forces had attacked Princes Innes in order to gain Grado's favour and had waged war with both Renais and Frelia. If Councilman Klimt had not managed to elude Pablo's assassins, the entire country would have been dragged into the war. Even so, Carcino had suffered due to Pablo's ambition and greed. Economically, these past years had been difficult for them and there had been another cost as well. Mercenaries had not made up the entirety of Pablo's forces; some had been only regular citizens turned soldier in the hope of feeding their families. Eirika was fully aware that she and her forces had shed the blood of many fathers and brothers during their march through Carcino.

They had learned that after Pablo's death at Hamill Canyon, his wealth and estates had been passed on to his only son Guernic who had, not long after the end of war, managed to find a place on the Council of Elders. Guernic had been away at his estates the entirety of their visit so she and Seth had not had the opportunity to meet him.

"You said the blade is one of Guernic's," Eirika began. "How do you mean? After all, he's not a sword smith."

Gustav nodded. "Let me explain. The estates Guernic inherited from his father are located in southern Carcino. Parts of his territories are very remote, but they're also rich in minerals; there are several mines on his land. Because of this, a portion of his father's fortune came from the manufacture of weapons. They employ..." Gustav shook his head and shrugged. "I hesitate to use the word 'craftsmen' when, from I've seen the men in his facility are little more than trained labourers. They're able to craft a large number of weapons in a short time, though, as you can see, the quality of the blade suffers as a result. But it's one of the reasons Pablo was able to raise an army with such ease when he chose to side with Grado."

"And his son," Eirika said slowly, "inherited all this?"

Gustav nodded. "Yes and in fact he expanded the smithy."

Seth cocked an eyebrow "Expanded? _After_ the war's end?" He knit his brows and Eirika was relieved to know that she was not the only one made uneasy by the information Gustav had revealed. After all, though she and Seth were ostensibly here in an ambassadorial role in order to further the renewed friendship between their nation and Carcino, it was the news of Klimt's ailing health and the disappearance of one of Innes's informants that had truly prompted their visit.

"Yes," Gustav said, stroking his beard. "The council was nervous about that as well, but Guernic's made a point of showing that he has no intention of following in the footsteps of his father. He's been staunchly neutral in the debates and has acted as intermediary between the two factions of the Council more than once."

"So he's... trusted then?" asked Eirika, keeping her tone carefully neutral. Gustav was very much his father's son and had been an ally since his election to the Council a year after the end of the war. Even so, Eirika did not want to step on any toes by revealing her deep mistrust of anyone associated with Pablo.

"By many, yes," Gustav replied.

"And you?" asked Seth.

"I'd sooner have nothing to do with the man," Gustav replied. "The rest of us made our fortunes by honest means. His family produces shoddy wares and arms bandits and mercenaries. And if he's at all his father's son..." It did not escape Eirika notice that Gustav's hand had come to rest on his sword hilt and was gripping it until his knuckles were white.

"How fares you father?" asked Eirika gently. It was strange to think that here was a man near twice her age who still had a father while she had lost hers three years ago. She pushed away thoughts of that morning's dream and instead focussed her attention on Gustav who heaved a sigh, his hand finally releasing its hold on his hilt.

"Poorly, I'm afraid. The healers say there's nothing they can do now. He grows weaker every day."

Eirika bowed her head. "I'm sorry."

"I'd expected him to live to be a hundred," Gustav said, a wry smile on his lips, though it did not touch his eyes. "Well..." He straightened and, with a deep breath, squared his shoulders. "There's business to attend to. Do you still insist on touring the outer part of the city, you highness?"

"I would like to, yes," Eirika replied.

"In that case it would be best to go in the morning before the streets become more crowded. You should bring your escort along as well. The streets are quite safe, I assure you," he added to forestall the question Seth had opened his mouth to ask. "But there are a great number panhandlers and more than a few snatch purses and I think we'd be better off not tempting them by appearing to be an easy mark."

"Agreed," Eirika said.

"I assume you'll both want to freshen up before then. I can meet you at the main gate in an hour if that would suit you."

Eirika glanced at Seth who nodded. "That would be fine. Thank you, Councilman Gustav."

"Until then, Lady Eirika, Sir Seth," he said and, with a deep bow, he departed.

They began walking away from the green and it was not until they were away from the prying eyes of the spectators that Eirika spoke. "Why," she began slowly, "would anyone want to forge more weapons _after_ the end of a war?"

"He seems not to have much faith in the preset peace," Seth noted.

"Perhaps he's privy to some information we're not. You've still had no luck contacting Innes's informant?"

"None. There's still time, yet..." His brow was furrowed, his lips thinned into a line.

"We'll see what we learn today. Gustav may be proud of his capital but he won't spare us the less favourable corners now that we've insisted."

"Eirika..." From the earnestness of his tone she was certain she knew what was coming next. "You needn't come. I can report to you in full what I see."

She shook her head. "We'll have an escort. And with my loyal knight there to protect me, what more could I ask for?" she added with a sly smile, but Seth's air remained sober as he spoke.

"I am in earnest, my lady."

"And I as well." She knew that at moments like this they walked a narrow line. As a knight it was his duty to protect her; as her husband it was his desire to do so. Yet a knight had no authority over a princess: he could offer council but was bound to obey her commands. But what of a husband? Was his opinion not worth as much as hers in their marriage? Where once he might have simply bowed and said 'as you wish', he now pressed beyond the limits of what a knight could say to a princess and instead spoke as a husband to his wife.

Seth placed both hands on her shoulders and looked her directly in the eyes as he spoke. "I do _not_ like what we've seen thus far. The Council of Elders is more divided than we were given to understand in Gustav's correspondence, and the disappearance of Innes's contact and the unnatural decline of Klimt's health are troubling to say the least." He cupped her face and let his thumb trace her cheek. "I'm worried for you safety, Eirika. You know that even I cannot always protect you."

"I know," she whispered. How could she be unaware of it after their would-be assassin, Urlsula, had thrown the fact in their faces? Even so, she was not about to live her life in a gilded cage just for the sake of her own safety. What use was she to her country if she never set foot outside the confines of the castle walls? "I know," she said once again, "but I want to see the things Ursula claimed she'd lived. I need to see these things for myself, Seth. If there's anything we can do to help..." The day she'd tried to kill Seth openly, Ursula had told them of her youth as a snatch-purse on the streets of Port Kiris in Carcino. Though Eirika could not forgive Ursula for all she'd done, she was filled with sorrow to know that she had suffered so, and that many more did as well. There was poverty in Renais of course after the devastation of the war, but poverty in the large cities such as Port Kiris and Kartan took on a distinctly different character than that in the countryside.

Eirika looked up as she felt Seth's hand squeezing her shoulder. The smile on his face eased her heart. "We should get ready," he said simply.

She nodded. "Thank you, Seth." And with that they returned to their rooms in order to prepare for their sojourn into the outer streets of Kartan.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

As they moved along the narrow streets of outer Kartan, Seth tried to convince himself that he was not avoiding looking at his wife.

Eirika walked between himself and Gustav, the three of them surrounded by a troop of armed soldiers, the princess's escort from Renais. Even so, Seth kept his hand close to his hilt, his eyes scanning their surroundings. The streets of Kartan that lead from the main gate as well as all the inner areas surrounding city hall, were broad and well maintained, with nary a loose paving stone. They were cleaned regularly and patrolled by city guards. But the poorer quarters of the city were another matter altogether. The stench wafting from the tanneries on the outskirts of the city was worse than anything Seth had come across in all his years as a soldier. Gustav breathed through a handkerchief and had offered one to Eirika. She had refused, though Seth had noticed her swallow hard several times, and even now she was slightly pale. Most of those who walked the streets were armed and those who were not, travelled in groups. He kept a careful eye on the narrow-eyed youths who leered at them from alleyways, for even the youngest ones could be a threat and he did not care for the way the older ones' gazes lingered on his wife.

Yet Seth dared not glance at her face as she looked on the craftsmen in their threadbare tunics and trousers, who skittered away from their group as they passed them on the street, and the hollow-cheeked children who eyed them hopefully, their hands held out for coins or food. He dared not look at her for he knew her gentle heart ached to see the poor of Kartan, and there was nothing he could do to take away her sadness. He could only do his best to protect her from those who would abuse of that kindness. With that in mind he also kept his eyes on the man who had joined them shortly before they'd set out and who walked a pace behind them.

Councilman Guernic had arrived in Kartan late last night, it seemed, and when he'd appeared at city hall just as they were about to depart, he'd offered to join them on their excursion. With his angular features and aquiline nose, which gave him the appearance of a bird of prey, Guernic looked very much like a younger version of his father. He was soft spoken and unerringly polite, but this only served to remind Seth of some of the fops of the Renais court before the war, the ones who had fawned over Princess Eirika in the hopes of gaining her favour, or even her hand in the case of the more ambitious ones.

"Has it always been like this?" asked Eirika, gesturing vaguely to indicate the squalor that surrounded them.

"It's gotten worse since the war," Gustav explained, speaking through the handkerchief pressed over his mouth and nose. "Trade has suffered these past years and there's been greater poverty in the cities because of it."

"The poor harvests of the past two years have done little to alleviate the situation; with the increase in the price of grain, it's all most people can do to keep food in their mouths these days," Guernic added mournfully, though in Seth's mind it was a hangdog look upon Guernic's face rather than an air of true regret. The contrast could not be more clear than when his wife spoke a moment later.

"Isn't there anything the Council can do?" Eirika's voice was thick with emotion and Seth longed to reach out to her. But in the company of others it was their duty to act only as princess and knight, for anything else could suggest weakness on her part. Yet he allowed his hand to brush against hers as if by accident. She cast him a sideways glance and a hint of a smile flitted across her features and was gone again in an instant.

Gustav, still breathing through his handkerchief, sighed. "We've tried to help where we can– placing limits on the grain prices, selling from our own stocks, setting up orphanages for the children who lost their parents in the war, and other such projects. However there's a limit to what we can accomplish and there's resistance in the Council."

"Resistance?" Eirika cocked her head, appearing puzzled as she turned to Gustav. "Why would anyone be resistant to helping their own people?"

Taking a sudden interest in the muck on his boots, Gustav cleared his throat. "Well you see, princess, there's a belief among some members that it's not the place of the Council to regulate prices, that such things are best left to themselves, that prices are determined by the amount of goods available and how much is desired. They believe that to interfere is detrimental to the country as a whole."

"And what of their responsibility to the citizenry of Carcino?" Eirika asked icily.

"They would say," Gustav replied, still intent upon his boots, "that their responsibility is to the health of the state, not to any individual, and that the condition of the poor and unfortunate cannot be rectified with breadcrumbs, but that restoring Carcino will be to the benefit of all in the long run."

To the surprise of her entire escort, Eirika stopped dead in the middle of the street, hands on her hips, and glared at Gustav. "How dare they! The common people are the ones who put bread on our tables and wine in our cups; we know this in Renais. I was brought up knowing that the role of the nobility is one of stewardship and that we are meant to watch over and protect the land that the peasants farm as well as the people who farm it. Do your fellow councilmen care nothing at all for their own people?"

It was only now that Gustav, his cheeks burning, looked up to meet Eirika's steely gaze. "Princess, I can only tell you that I'm not one of their ilk and that I do all I can to help those who've suffered due to the war."

Eirika hung her head, her hands clenched into fists at her side and he knew how she must be reliving the war in that instant, as they all did at times. So many had suffered; so many continued to suffer. And to know that she had played a role in it...

When Guernic reached out to place a hand on Eirika's shoulder, Seth was uncertain whether it was the husband or the knight who snagged the councilman's wrist, his voice like chilled iron as he spoke. "It is not the custom in Renais to lay hand on the princess."

"I apologise," Guernic said, rubbing his wrist, "though coming from you, Sir Seth, that statement is certainly... ironic."

The retort being formulated in his mind vanished as his attention was drawn back to their surroundings. Something had changed. His hand fell to his sword hilt before he could even register what it was, his eyes scanning the streets which seemed more crowded than they had been a few moments ago. "Your highness, I think we should keep moving."

Eirika's head snapped up at his words and he was proud when he noticed her hand wrapped around her own hilt. "Yes of course."

They had not taken more than a few steps when a group of young men, five strong and all wearing short swords, sauntered into the middle of the street and came to a halt in their path. Glancing left and right Seth noticed others had stopped to watch, other young men like these in grubby clothes and worn boots, none more than seventeen or eighteen, but each wearing a sword even though they looked barely able to afford a dagger. When the men failed to move out of the way, the guardsmen drew closer together around Eirika."Please step out of the way," the lead soldier said.

One of the young men took a step forward from the group, and, crossing his arms over his chest, grinned, his front teeth, slightly askew, giving his angular face the air of an overgrown rodent. "Ain't you got no charity?"

"Out of the way please," the guard repeated.

"Lady," the young man said, craning his neck to try to look past the guards towards Eirika, "we ain't got no money. Can't you spare a bit?"

This time the lead soldier put his hand to his sword. "Princess Eirika of Renais does not carry money. On the authority of the kingdom of Renais I order that you remove yourself from our path."

The man snorted. "Renais, huh? My father was a soldier. Got killed during the war fighting the princess's troops." Seth's eyes flitted to Eirika: her face was pale, but her hands were steady.

"I'm a member of the Council of Elders," Gustav announced, taking a step forward. "On the authority of the Council I demand that you let us pass."

"Council?" scoffed the young man. "What've you lot done for us?" He glanced over his shoulder at his compatriots who all nodded their agreement. A wave of murmurs swept the onlookers as the lead soldier of Eirika's escort drew his sword and the others followed suit. "You gonna cut us up like you did our families?" the young man taunted. They were too confident. Something was wrong.

Seth wasn't certain who threw the first rock, a chunk of crumbling cobblestone half as large as his fist. "Move!" he shouted to the soldiers. "We need to get out of here immediately." But no sooner had the soldiers taken a step than the young men drew their swords. And then so did others, the ones standing in the winding side streets and the grimy alleyways. Seth could do little more than pull Eirika against him, shielding her as a hail of stones showered them from all directions. The clatter of blades rang out before the stones even hit the ground.

"You must get out of here," Guernic said, turning to Seth. "If you can break through here you can follow that road." He pointed to a narrow street to their right. No swordsmen lingered there, only a few tradesmen or shopkeepers who were scurrying away from the brawl. "Cut through the butchers' street until you reach the main streets again." Guernic had placed himself close to the princess and when another storm of stones soared towards them, a smaller one caught him on the side of the face, drawing blood. Seth caught sight of a man with deeply tanned skin, blond hair and a pale beard that looked very well trimmed, holding a stone, and their eyes met for a moment. "Go!" Guernic shouted.

Seth didn't like Guernic– what was more, he didn't trust him– but in an instant he made a decision and, gripping Eirika's left wrist, he shouldered past the ring of guards and into the street towards the path Guernic had indicated. A young man holding a sword in trembling hands stepped into his path. In one smooth motion, Seth unsheathed his blade and struck the ruffian across the face with the pommel of his sword before his opponent could so much as raise his weapon to defend himself. Seth barrelled past and no one else moved to stop them. Eirika kept pace with him and he was once again thankful that she had kept up her training these past years; she was no longer the girl who had struggled to draw breath as they had scaled the mountainous path to Caer Pelyn over three years ago.

Together they pelted down the narrow path away from the fighting and then turned down what could only be the butchers' street. Cuts of meat hung in the open air and the butchers seemed little concerned with the flies that hovered near their wares, nor by the distant sounds of the commotion two streets away. Seth's stomach churned as he drew in deep lungfuls of air heavy with the stench of spoiling meat, but he never slowed his pace. Nor did Eirika and his heart, pounding as they sprinted through the streets, ached with pride. He could not have asked for a better princess to serve, nor woman to love.

They did not slow their pace until they were on one of the main roads again, a well paved street, straight and wide, which lead to city hall at the centre of Kartan. There Seth paused a moment to alert a member of the city guard to what had happened, after which he quickly excused himself, for it was still his duty to get the princess to safety and he would not be satisfied until they were back at Kartan city hall itself.

By the time the brass dome of the Hall was visible they were thoroughly winded. No sooner had they reached the safety of the enclosed grounds than they both collapsed against the inside of the main gate, backs against the stone wall. "Are you... well?" Seth panted.

"I'm... fine," Eirika replied between breaths.

"Good." And with that he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and drew her against him, placing a kiss on the top of her head as he tried to catch his breath.

"Seth," Eirika began after a few minutes.

"Hmm?"

"Is it my imagination," she said, one eyebrow raised, "or does someone try to kill us every time we travel?"

Seth laughed.

When he looked at his wife, she was smiling at him, and somehow, in spite of the danger they'd just faced, and the troubles that seemed certain to come their way, he could only feel blessed. To be able to serve his country and be with the one he loved, to be her protector and her lover, it was all he had wished for but never hoped could be his. It was the life he had imagined the night they had fled together from Renais. _I wanted to leave everything behind... to take you far away to someplace where we could be together..._ Who would have known that he'd not have to give up everything to have the one thing he most wanted?

"Seth, just before we fled, there was a man in the crowd who seemed... out of place. He didn't look like the others." She took a moment to describe him; it was the same man Seth had noticed, the one who had caught Guernic with a stone.

Seth nodded. "I noted him as well. I can't but believe that what we just witnessed was staged somehow."

"I think the young men who confronted us were very much earnest, Seth."

"I agree. But if they're as poor as the others in the area how did they pay for their swords? And how did they happen to be there just as we passed through?"

Eirika closed her eyes. Her hand hovered over her belly for a moment and Seth could not help but worry.

"Are you sure you're–"

"I'm fine." She squeezed his hand. "Shall we go, Seth? We should inform the rest of the Council what just happened."

He nodded and, as he rose to his feet, offered her his hand which she took with a smile on her lips. Yet her smile melted away as her eyes fixed on something over his shoulder. Seth spun around only to see a figure in a dingy brown cloak and hood leaning against the outer gatepost, shoulders heaving as he struggled for breath. Laying a hand on his hilt and motioning to Eirika to stay behind him, he approached the figure.

The cloaked man looked up. "Sir Seth?"

Seth titled his head and tried to see beneath the man's hood. "Yes?"

"I have a message..." He paused to draw another ragged breath and only then did Seth glimpse the blood on his shirt. "For Prince Innes." The man drew back his hood, and though Seth did not recognise the man, his appearance fit the description he'd been given of Innes's missing informant.

Seth reached out to steady the man as he swayed on his feet. He helped him slide down against the gatepost and now Seth could see the crossbow bolt protruding from the man's back. "I'll send for a healer," Eirika said. Seth nodded and she sprinted away towards city hall.

The man reached into his shirt and produced a letter, still sealed, but half soaked with blood. "It's imperative that this information–" He broke off as he was wracked by a fit of coughing. Seth's heart sank as he saw blood spatter the man's fingers when he tried to cover his mouth; the wound was serious. If he'd only been struck in the side a healing staff could have cured the wound with little difficulty but this...

"I'll make certain the message reaches Princes Innes," Seth assured, taking the letter. He only hoped the blood had not washed out the ink.

The man seemed aware of Seth's concern for be began to speak again."It's about Councilman Klimt's illness. He's been poisoned."

His words set Seth's heart racing like a steed into battle. "By whom?"

"Another councilman. I don't know who; I saw only his agent." He coughed again, harder this time and there was a distinctive rattle to his breathing. It would not be long now.

"What did he look like?" prodded Seth. "Quickly!"

"A man. No older than you or I. Blond. A trimmed beard and blue eyes, tanned skin. I didn't catch his name." The man who'd hit Guernic with a stone... Was it possible that it was the same man? "I've been in hiding since I learned. They saw me, were after me since then. I..." He gurgled and spit blood. "Tried to reach you today. They came after me. I ran but..." A wheezing breath escaped his lips. "You must..."

Seth gripped the man's shoulder. "You've done well. I'll make sure Prince Innes hears of this. You may rest easy."

Those words seemed to be all the man needed to hear for he closed his eyes, the tension leaving his body. In a few minutes, Eirika would return with a healer who would announce the obvious. Until then Seth waited in silence by the side of a man who had died to fulfill his duty.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

The pennants atop the towers of castle Renais fluttering in the autumn breeze were a welcome sight– though not nearly as welcome as the familiar faces that greeted him and Eirika as they rode through the castle gates. Forde had set up an easel on the battlements and paused from his painting to holler at them with his usual gusto. Had Kyle been there he would surly have berated him, but as there was only Franz standing with him on the battlements, looking slightly abashed, Forde's shouts quickly drew the attention of most of the castle's inhabitants. By the time Seth and Eirika had crossed through the courtyard and were handing their horses off to the groomsmen, they had already received many a hearty "Welcome back!" from the castle's soldiers and servants.

"Princess Eirika, Sir Seth," Kyle greeted them as he emerged from the castle's main hall into the courtyard. "It's good to see you both well and safe." He gave a slight bow.

"Thank you, Kyle," Eirika replied. "And how is everyone here?"

"All is well. Princes Innes sent word of what happened in Carcino. King Ephraim and Queen Tana were anxious. They'll be glad to see you both."

The smile, slight though it was, on Kyle's face was genuine and, as was often the case, Seth was at once grateful and amazed. It was true that Kyle was perhaps a bit overly formal with him since he'd gained the title of consort to the Princess of Renais, but otherwise things were unchanged between them. Seth had not expected to so easily obtain the blessing of his fellow knights when he'd announced his intention to marry Eirika.

Though it was not unheard of for a knight to fall in love with one of his royal charges, it would be expected that he bear his feelings in silence... Like Carlyle or General Selena, Seth had thought grimly. Madness or death: he had chosen a third option, though it might mean dishonour. But after seeing Eirika standing over him, sword drawn, facing down an assassin to protect him– when in all rights, as Princess of Renais, she should have seen to her own safety– after seeing her throw duty to the wind for his sake, how could he do any less for her? He'd been ready to bear any burden, any shame, so when he had gathered the other knights together and confessed that he and the princess were to marry, he had expected scorn and reproach, not the cheers and congratulations he'd instead received. "Of course they were pleased," Eirika had said when he'd told her. "They want your happiness. And mine. And what's more..." She had paused then, a sly smile creeping onto her face. "I imagine they're pleased to know that you're only a man after all, that even you have a chink in your armour."

Granted, Seth had had to endure a fair bit of ribbing from Forde, but though the younger knight walked the line in his humour, he walked it with grace and never crossed it. Everyone had approved of the match, even the king himself.

"King Ephraim is waiting in his chambers," Kyle said, interrupting Seth's train of thought. "You should head there right away; he's impatient to see you both." He paused and then, with a wry smile on his lips added, "And you know how the King is when he's impatient."

Eirika sniffed. "Oh I certainly know."

Together he and Eirika made their way to one of the newer wings of the castle, built only a century or so ago, where the royals' quarters were located. It had been strange at first to find himself living there rather than in the room (small but well furnished) he'd lived in since being appointed as a general. Even now it was strange to be expected to call the king "Ephraim" when they were in private. Ephraim insisted on it, though Seth still found the name fell awkwardly from his lips. When they reached the king's and queen's chamber, Eirika swung open the door without hesitation, though Seth would have balked to enter without knocking. Seth nodded curtly to the soldier on guard and followed.

The outer chamber of the king's room was actually a lavishly furnished parlour. The wood panelled walls were draped with tapestries, one of which depicted an episode from the battle with the Demon King when the five heroes had struggled to seal him away with the Sacred Stones centuries ago. Several oak chairs, padded with generously stuffed cushions, were set around the room. Ephraim seemed to feel that the relaxed atmosphere of the room was conducive to conversation.

Ephraim and Tana rose immediately to greet them, smiles on their faces. Tana wasted not a moment in throwing her arms around Eirika while Ephraim gripped Seth's hand. "It's good to see you back in one piece, Seth," he said.

"Thank you, my lor–" He broke off and cleared his throat. Ephraim waited without comment, one eyebrow raised. "Ephraim."

The moment Tana let Eirika go, Ephraim swept his sister into his arms. "I'd never have sent you if I'd known the situation in Carcino was so unstable."

"I know," Eirika assured him. "But I had Seth with me." She turned and smiled in his direction and it was like being caressed by a beam of sunlight. "Besides," she said, turning her attention back to Ephraim, "it seems quite likely that the riot was staged to draw out Innes's agent. We were just bait," she added grimly, her lips thinned to a line. "Has there been any news since we left Frelia?"

Ephraim sat in one of the cushioned chairs and everyone followed suit. "Nothing to speak of. Councilman Klimt is just as ill as he was. He's fighting hard, but by the sound of it there's precious little the healers can do at this point. It seems the most they can hope for is to identify the poison. It might help them discover the culprit's identity."

"I'm worried what will happen if the Council learns of this," Seth said. "Councilman Gustav doesn't plan to share the information for the moment as he believes it could be quite volatile."

Ephraim shook his head. "I'd hoped after the war things would sort themselves out."

Eirika's eyes were fixed on her hands which lay in her lap. "Many people in Carcino are... unhappy." Seth's heart ached to watch her as she spoke; she had the same air she'd worn when they'd walked the filthy streets of outer Kartan. "There's poverty there that's worse than anything in Renais, and many lost friends and family when we fought Pablo's forces."

"He didn't give us a choice," Tana whispered, her hands clenched into fists on her thighs. "He assassinated his own countrymen and he tried to kill my brother."

Eirika sighed. "And in doing so Pablo forced the war upon the entire populace of Carcino. Many of the soldiers in his forces were just desperate men and women who'd never before wielded a blade."

There was a pause and it did not escape Seth how Ephraim glanced in Tana's direction and how she gave a slight nod in response and smiled. In his own way, Ephraim was as gentle as his sister, and Seth had never seen him be anything less than patient and considerate with his wife. He supposed even a king and queen had to walk a fine line between their roles as heads of state and as spouses. "And what of Pablo's son?" asked Ephraim.

Eirika exchanged a look with Seth. "He seemed... affable," she said slowly. "More than I would have expected. More than I would have liked, perhaps."

Ephraim's lips thinned to a line. He turned to Seth. "And what was your impression?"

"I did _not_ like him."

For a moment Ephraim peered at Seth, eyebrows raised, a slight quirk to his lips. "Not mincing words today, are we?"

Shifting in his chair and trying not to make his abashment obvious, Seth struggled to find the words to explain his dislike for the man. Did he dislike him as a knight or only as a husband, jealous of a man who seemed far too _affable_ for his tastes? Finally Seth shrugged. "I wish I could be more precise. He did nothing more than any other nobleman trying to curry favour might have done, yet... I could not abide him."

Before they could pursue the matter any further, a barely audible knock sounded from the other side of the door– a knock which, if Seth was not mistaken, had not been more than two feet off the floor. Ephraim was smiling as he said, "Come in."

When the door opened Seth looked over his shoulder to see the nursemaid standing in the doorway with a baby in one arm and with her other hand holding the hand of the little girl who had knocked on the door. "Forgive me, my lord," she said ducking her head in Ephraim's direction. "The little princess wanted to see her uncle and aunt."

They all stood and Seth could not help but grin as princess Elin tottered over to him. He scooped her up without hesitation while Eirika cooed over the young prince. Tylar had been born in mid-winter and was now eight months old; Elin, the future Queen of Renais, was a little over two years old. Ephraim and Tana had not been married more than a month before she'd been with child. Some ten months after their wedding they'd had an heir.

After a few moments Tylar began to fuss. "Is it lunchtime again?" Tana asked wryly as she crossed the room to take prince Tylar in her arms. Eirika handed him over, still smiling as she looked on her nephew. Tana positively glowed as she cradled her infant son in her arms. She paused a moment to place a kiss on Elin's head before turning to them all saying, "If you'll excuse me..."

Elin only protested a little when the nurse announced that it was nap time, but she settled quickly as Ephraim told her to be good and promised that she could try on his crown later that evening. The idea seemed to thrill her for she nodded very seriously and hurried towards the doorway with her nursemaid in tow.

"So," Ephraim drawled, once they three were alone. The way he looked at them with one eyebrow raised made Seth exceedingly nervous. "When can I expect to be an uncle?" he asked archly.

Seth found himself fiddling with his scabbard and was immensely relieved when Eirika was the one to formulate a reply. "Need I remind you, brother," she said, standing very straight, her arms crossed over her chest, and with a pronounced tilt of her chin, "that it was you, not I, charged with begetting heirs?"

Ephraim sniffed. "And I did my duty, didn't I? What about you, Seth? Have you been doing your husbandly duty?"

Seth straightened, jaw clenched, feeling the blood run into his face, but forcing his air to remain as impassive as ever. If anyone else had asked such a question... There were times it was incredibly bothersome to have a brother-by-marriage who was also one's king. And though Ephraim spoke in jest, there was often something calculated about his humour which reminded Seth of King Fado's shrewdness.

"Watch your tongue, dear brother," Eirika retorted, waving her finger, "or I'll explain in great detail how and how often he does his duty."

Ephraim grimaced and held his hands outwards in surrender. "Enough, enough. You win. I'm sorry."

But Eirika seemed not to be through and Seth could feel the blood rushing into his face right up to his ears. "And if you'd stop sending him off to foreign countries without me I'm sure he'd do his duty even more often."

"Eirika," Seth said, wincing as the name came out as a strangled sort of whimper that sounded distinctly un-knightly. He wondered for a moment if she'd always been this bold and decided that yes, she always had been with her brother... just not about this particular topic. Perhaps it was the effect of–

"And as it just so happens," she continued, "I'm _already_ with child."

For a moment Ephraim froze. And then a smile that threatened to split his face in two spread over his features and he was embracing his sister with one arm while snagging Seth's forearm and squeezing it vigorously. "When? I mean how long? That is–"

There was a flush in her cheeks as she spoke. "I was going to tell you and Tana after dinner. I didn't mean to blurt it out like that. But you were being so infuriating... It's just short of three months I think. " Their best guess was that she'd become with child in midsummer shortly after he'd returned from Grado. Ephraim had sent him there to oversee one of the many continuing rebuilding projects, many of which had been plagued by bandits and looters. Seth had been away for nearly two months and when he'd returned Eirika had been... very glad to see him.

Her hand rested on her belly and Seth wanted to wrap his arms around her. She had told him the news on the way back from Carcino and he could still feel the joy of it welling up in him like a spring. She'd said she'd suspected for over a month, but had wanted to wait to be certain before telling him. He'd been a bit distressed that they'd been practicing swordplay with real swords while she was in her state, but she'd only rolled her eyes and pointed out that he'd never injured her. Even so, they'd been using wooden practice swords ever since. What was more frightening was that she'd been in danger during the incident in Kartan. The thought of anything happening to her, and of anything happening to their child (their child!), filled him with sick terror.

"Now if the two of you don't mind," Eirika announced, "I'm going to go tell Tana." Tana had gone into her quarters to nurse, and as Eirika disappeared after her Seth could still feel his face burning.

"That was certainly unexpected," Ephraim murmured, looking more amused than anything else.

"When Tana was with child..." Seth began tentatively.

"Yes?"

Seth cleared his throat. "Did her behaviour ever seem somewhat..."

"Crazed?" Ephraim replied. "Oh all the time."

"I was going to say 'erratic'..."

Ephraim smiled and clapped Seth on the back. "Look on at it as an adventure."

"Yes, sire."

**ooo**

"I can't believe you said that to him," Seth groaned as he undid the laces of his doublet. He did not need to turn to know that Eirika's eyes were on him as he undressed. The thought pleased him in spite of himself.

Eirika, already dressed for bed in her nightshirt, sniffed. "I'm sure Ephraim understands the mechanics of how I became with child."

"Yes, but you needn't have offered details."

"He did start it."

"And you, my love, finished it. Quite spectacularly I might add," he replied, glancing over his shoulder.

She shrugged, looking slightly abashed. "I'm sorry; it just slipped out that way."

Having removed the doublet and undone the laces of his collar, he now peeled off his shirt, groaning at the ache in his right shoulder.

"Your shoulder?"

He nodded and threw the shirt into the corner with as much force as he could muster, though it caused pain to arc through his lance arm. Damn that Valter!

"Seth..."

"It was the cold during the ride back here," he murmured as he dropped down onto the edge of their bed. Eirika drew closer to him, pressing her lips against his shoulder and then rubbing it gently with her warm hands. Only she and a few healers knew that the wound he'd received from Valter the night Renais had fallen still pained him at times. It was always worse in the cold.

Her hands kneaded the tension out of his muscles and he sighed and leaned into her, feeling the dips and curves of her body pressed against his back. "You should tell Ephraim, you know."

His spine stiffened. "No."

"Seth–"

"The wound doesn't interfere with my lance arm."

"But someday it may and Ephraim should consider it when he has to make tactical decisions."

"I don't wish to have special treatment," he said, keeping his eyes on the floor. She could have ordered him, but he knew she would not. It was not lost on him that when they disagreed on an issue, no matter how important or how trivial, she avoided reminding him of the disparity in their rank. "If I can't serve the kingdom as a knight then of what use am I?" Of what use was a knight who could no longer do battle, especially one so young as he? He ought still to have been in his prime years, yet his arm ached in the winter months as if he were an old man. And it had taken him three years to sire a child...

"Your value to the kingdom isn't limited to what you can do on the battlefield. Your knowledge of battle, your experience as a general–" She broke off and her hand clenched spasmodically over his shoulder. He winced. "Seth, I _worry_ for you."

"You needn't worry, my love," he said, without turning to look at her. "It's only an ache, a burden most soldiers have to bear over the years."

"Seth, look at me." Sighing, he turned to face his wife. His chest clenched at her earnestness. "I want you to be here with me for a long time to come, do you hear me? I want you here to be a father to our child." As she spoke, she took his hand and placed it over her belly. Seth's heart skipped a beat. Her belly was still quite flat, but the thought that there was a life within her, a life they'd created and which, in half a year's time, would be brought forth into this world– the thought made him as giddy and nervous as a squire about to take his knightly vows.

Seth cupped her cheek and looked her in the eye. "I will. I promise you I will do everything in my power to be here." He stroked her hair and placed a kiss on her brow, but when he drew back to look at her face, her eyes lingered again on the scar. During the war he had told her that she owed him no debt for that wound; how was it that even after three years she still would not believe him?

"I know, but that you suffered– and continue to– because I couldn't protect myself, because I–"

He pressed his fingers to her lips. "I would have protected you regardless, weak or strong, princess or no– you know that." She bit her lip, not meeting his eyes and he took her face in his hands. "I would suffer far worse to earn the blessings I have: this life with you, with... with our child," he said, reaching out tentatively to place a hand over her still flat belly. Her eyes flitted up to him, a nervous smile tugging at her lips. "This life together rebuilding our kingdom... This is everything."

"I know, but I want you here– right into your dotage." She paused a moment, clutching the silver pendant she wore around her neck; he had give it to her when he had asked for her hand, just as his father had done with his mother... his father who had died serving King Fado. "Sir Caradoc, your father..." began Eirika. "I think I remember him a little."

Seth had been eighteen and only just knighted when his father had been killed. They had spoken of it once before, during the war. Eirika had not yet been twenty when her father had died at the Emperor's hands. She had held up remarkably well in front of the troops, never showing a moment's weakness. Only he, who had stood watch at her tent until she fell asleep every night, knew how bitterly she had wept those first terrible weeks. How his heart had ached for her, yet as her knight he'd been able to offer only a few distant words of comfort. She'd seemed grateful even for so little. But one evening, before she'd retired for the night, he had told her of his father, of how he'd died in service to Renais when Seth had been a young man and she, just a child. The knowledge of this fellow-feeling had seemed to help her more than any words of sympathy.

"He was very tall," she ventured.

He brushed a lock of hair away from her eyes. "You were a child, love; from your perspective everyone was very tall."

Eirika sniffed and proceeded to prop her pillows up against the bed's headboard before leaning back against them. "He had a beard and mustache, the same colour as your hair," she said and then, after a moment's thought, added, "And over his armour he always wore a simple tabard with the seal of Renais in blue and gold." She looked over at him with a raised eyebrow. He gave a nod, for she had the measure of him. "I remember seeing him talking with my father sometimes. He wasn't all that old, was he?"

Seth shook his head. "He was less than two score in age when he died. But I am not my father," he said firmly, reaching out to caress her face.

"I know," she said, sighing and leaning into him as he wrapped his arms around her. "Seth?" she said after a few moments' pause.

"Hmm?"

"He married younger than you, didn't he?"

"By several years, yes."

She drew back to look at him. "And what took you so long?"

"Need I remind you that you're eight years my junior– _and_ the Princess of Renais?"

She sniffed. "Excuses." There was a gleam in her eyes then as she looked at him, one eyebrow raised. "I think perhaps you should make it up to me." Her smile turned impish. "Now why don't you blow out the light and come to bed?"

A smile twitched his lips. "As you wish, my love."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **How miraculous: after four days of not letting me upload this chapter, ffnet is finally behaving. Because I'm feeling grateful for being able to post at all, I'm going thank my reviewers by name: Maxmagnus20019, Limstella, sukiyakii, Lemurian-Girl, Silvara, Lucifer Yaway, SierralaineWalsh, piratelore, and of course saffiremoon21. Thank you. I was initially a bit hesitant about doing a sequel since "Tarnish" didn't really necessitate one, so I'm happy that this fic has been well-received-- not to mention I'm also glad someone is actually reading it.

**Chapter Four**

As his eyes flitted to the window across the room he could see coppery leaves, brittle this late in the season, whipped about by the wind. Sighing, Seth could not help but think that war was much like the violent autumn wind, and those caught up it, like the crumbling leaves.

"None of this would have happened if it hadn't been discovered that Elder Klimt had been poisoned," Kyle said, shaking his head.

"An anonymous letter to the council offering proof that one of its own poisoned him– who'd have thought," Forde added. "Fishy, though, isn't it?"

Klimt had died only a few weeks after Seth and Eirika had returned from Carcino and the letter had arrived within days. Civil war between the two council factions and their armies had quickly followed. Since then, war councils such as today's had become a regular event; everyone gathered around the long oak table knew how easily war could spread from one country to its neighbours. The poison that had killed Klimt was a rare variety, difficult to detect and found only in Jehanna. Edvard, the councilman accused, had long had trading relations with merchants in Jehanna, including ones known to traffic in exotic herbs and questionable concoctions. He was also known to have many strong allies on the council and to be a leader in the faction opposing Klimt, so much so that the faction was now referred to as the "Edvard faction". Strange, thought Seth, to speak of two factions named after dead men.

At the centre of the table Ephraim, Tana by his side as always, looked grim, more so than he had at past meetings; the way he knit his brows and his silence through most of the reports had Seth's stomach fluttering. Eirika, too, seemed to have noticed, for she was holding Seth's hand under the table and her palm was slick with sweat.

Tana hung her head. "I still don't understand why Councilman Gustav had to fight a duel over it. He's not a knight, only a merchant." Though she always remained calm through the meetings, Seth knew how upset Tana truly was by recent events; she was far less restrained when they discussed the matters privately among the four of them. Her feelings for Carcino were quite mixed, for though they had long been allies of Frelia, Pablo's attempt on her brother's life had seeded mistrust during the War of the Stones. Recent events had only worsened matters.

"They may not be knights," Eirika replied, "but the ruling families still have strict codes of honour. Councilman Gustav's back was against a wall the moment that letter arrived and I can't help but think that whoever sent it knew that that would be the case." How ironic that the son of the man who had brought peace to Carcino had been forced to fight a duel which had escalated into a civil war. Once the opposing faction had been implicated in the poisoning, the rest of the council had been forced to respond by refusing to recognise their authority and demanding that they step down. They had refused to step down and things had quickly spiralled out of control. There had been reports of more duels and of fighting in the streets of Kartan.

Tana's hands were balled into fists on the tabletop and she took a deep breath and released it slowly before speaking. "They've crossed their borders and attacked my countrymen. There's no excuse for that. Frelia will have to respond."

"They what?" Kyle had barely managed to stay seated at her words and the other officers and noblemen seated at the far end of the table began to murmur at the news.

"Last night," Ephraim explained, "we received word that several villages along the Frelia-Carcino border were attacked by the Edvard forces. Refugees from Carcino have been trickling over the border for weeks, just regular people trying to escape the war. But then mercenaries arrived and claimed that the villages had been harbouring enemy soldiers and used as a staging ground for attacks. At least three villages have been sacked."

"That's absolute hogwash! Sorry, sire," Forde added with a shrug, glancing in the king's direction while Kyle shook his head.

"We're aware of that," Ephraim said. He was leaning his chin on his hands. His air brought Seth back to the war. He glanced at Eirika as he felt her hand tighten over his. "King Hayden will be sending in troops," Ephraim continued. "As will we."

It seemed nearly everyone in the room began to speak at once save himself and Eirika. Seth could not bear to look at her as her hand clenched his.

Ephraim stood and raised his hands, signalling for silence. "Innes has already prepared a strategy and–" He paused a moment to clear his throat, looking for a moment as if there were an unpleasant taste in his mouth– not surprising considering the mutual dislike between him and his brother-by-marriage. "And I've agreed to go along with it." Again he had to raise a hand for silence. "I'll have further details for you all tomorrow. In the meantime, this session is officially over."

The assembled men and women rose and began to file out of the room in groups of two and three, all speaking in low tones. Seth rose, but he was not at all surprised when Ephraim called out to him. "Seth, could you stay behind a few moments?"

"Of course, sire," Seth replied, ashamed to find he could not look over at Eirika who hesitated a moment but then wordlessly followed Tana out of the council room. Seth's heart sank. Outside, the wind howled and whipped the fallen leaves into a frenzy. Winter was not far off: a month or so, six weeks at most, before the first snow.

"Seth," Ephraim began, his hands clasped behind his back as he faced the window Seth had been looking to a moment before, "I need to ask you to do something."

"Of course, your highness. Anything."

Ephraim spun around. "No more formalities. This is difficult enough as it is, especially with my sister being in the state she's in."

Seth sighed, but gave no other outward sign of the turmoil within. Part of him, the part that was husband and father-to-be howled, for he knew what was coming. But he was the Silver Knight and a general of Renais and he would not falter before his king– even if his king was also his brother-by-marriage. "Ephraim," he said, keeping his voice even, "would you hesitate were I not married to Eirika?"

Ephraim sighed and hung his head. "She worries about you when you're away, you know. She worries terribly."

"I know," Seth replied. But she had never once asked Ephraim not to send him; she had known what it would mean to marry a soldier. "She's also the princess of Renais and understands my duty as well as her own. You wish me to go Carcino, is that not so?"

"It's more than that, I'm afraid."

"How so?"

"The attacks on Frelian territory make no sense. Why would they do it? Frelia has always been an ally and they know that Frelia and Renais are bound by treaty and by blood. It should be obvious that Frelia will retaliate– and Renais with it. It's foolishness!"

Seth nodded. "Something seems not right. Neither side appears to truly want this war yet both feel obliged to fight it."

"That's the conclusion both Innes and I came to. Something's not right about these recent attacks either; it's as if they were goading us, encouraging us to attack northern Carcino. What's more we haven't confirmed that it was the Edvard faction who carried out the attack at all."

"You believe it's a trap of some sort?"

Ephraim shook his head and began to pace the room. "We're not certain. Someone wants Frelia to intercede in the north for whatever reason. Innes has had reports, however, about military activities in the south."

"The south?" Seth called to mind the map of Carcino its oblong shape and the south-easternly sloping mountain chain that made up the Renais-Carcino border. What he knew of the south was that it was sparsely inhabited, the terrain rough and made up mostly of hills and valleys. The bulk of Carcino's population lived in the more northern parts of the country around its several coastal cities.

"It's certainly odd," Ephraim said. "He's not been able to identify whose forces they are either– seems to be a mercenary band."

"I trust Innes's sources are as reliable as ever?"

Ephraim nodded gravely. "Between his own network of spies and the allies he's gained from our acquaintance with Rennac, there's little doubt. Rennac may be comfortably set up in Rausten, but from what I've heard he's none to pleased with what's happening in his homeland. Bad for the family fortune, you understand," Ephraim said, with an eyebrow arched ever so slightly.

"Of course." A smiled quirked Seth's lips, but faded just as quickly. "And Prince Innes's plan?"

Ephraim straightened and took a deep breath. "A small force will be sent out from Frelia to the border. They'll be charged with protecting the villages and doing some sabre rattling, enough to make the enemy think we're serious about activities there. But they're just a decoy. Seth, I want you to take an elite unit through the mountain paths into south Carcino. You'll be joined by a Frelian detachment; they're already en route."

For a moment Seth remained silent and allowed the gravity of the situation to sink in. What they were attempting was risky– both politically and militarily– but he could not say he disagreed with it. Something was terribly wrong in Carcino and preemptive action seemed necessary; anything would be better than allowing themselves to be drawn into another war. "I understand," he said finally.

"We don't know what you'll be facing. You'll need to be inconspicuous so it'll be a small force, no more than a hundred men and a few pegasus knights. But you'll get good troops, veteran forces from the war. Even so, I want you to be careful."

"Of course," Seth said, the roster of Renais troops already running through his mind.

"You can handpick our portion of the detachment. Take whoever you want."

"I'd like Kyle and Garcia if you've no objections."

Ephraim nodded. "I expected as much. What about Forde and Franz?"

Seth shook his head. "We need to leave some experienced soldiers here in case anything should happen in our absence."

"You're right of course." Ephraim heaved a sigh and leaned over the conference table. "I wish I were going myself."

"You're the king. Renais' stability depends on your safety."

Ephraim snorted. "You needn't remind me. I always said I should have had Eirika succeed to the throne. Think of it, Seth! You could have been consort to the Queen of Renais."

Eirika... That he would be away while she was with child... "How soon?"

"They should be here by tomorrow."

"Already?"

"My dear _brother_," Ephraim said, grimacing as he spoke the word, "anticipated my agreement and sent his forces ahead. I swear if I weren't so fond of Tana..." He gave himself a shake and turned to Seth, his air sober. "I want you out of there before the solstice. Any longer and you risk getting trapped by the snowfall."

"Understood. I'll begin preparations immediately."

"I expect you back alive and in once piece, Seth. You can consider that a command from your king."

A smile touched Seth's features. Ephraim had the makings of a great king like his father and Seth was proud to have him as a liege and as a brother-by-marriage. "One I would gladly obey."

**ooo**

Eirika did not move as the door to the council room swung open. She remained as she was, her back leaning against the wall, a tapestry, meant to keep out the draft, at her back. Seth stepped into the hall and froze as he noticed her there.

"He's sending you to Carcino, isn't he?" she said.

Seth hung his head. "Yes."

"When do you leave?"

"Tomorrow in all likelihood."

"I see." She bit her lip and forced back a sudden wave of emotion, the forcible, irrational kind that rolled over her during the days before her bleeding every month. It was frustrating to feel so overwhelmed, especially when she knew it was only the effect of being with child; Seth had been sent into danger before and though she worried, she had always been able to manage.

"It won't be for long," he assured her. She did not look up at him when he touched her face; she was determined to steady herself before she did. "We'll be returning by the solstice. I'll be back long before the child comes."

Eirika took a ragged breath and bit down on the inside of her cheek. Her hand hovered over her belly; she was not showing yet, but she was certainly feeling the effects.

"Eirika..."

"I'm all right. Just... make sure you finish your preparations early. I want to spend as much time with you this evening as I can."

"I–"

She pressed a finger to his lips. "Hurry and get ready. I'll see you this evening," she said and kissed him softly.

He did as she asked. They did not go to dinner with the others, but had something brought to their rooms. Seth told her of the plans and preparations, and she hardly tasted a bite of what she ate. Afterwards they spoke of other matters: friends and family and day to day trifles. They'd still not settled on a name for the child– nor had they by the time conversation fell away into caresses and lovemaking. Seth was as attentive a lover as he was a husband, by turns gentle and ferocious, and Eirika had always revelled in this aspect of their relationship, been enthralled by the rhythm of their bodies' dance. Yet tonight she found a part of her mind withdrawn from it all, a part which, instead of basking in the moment, tried to memorize every line of his body, the taste of his lips, the precise look on his face when he whispered that he loved her.

As she lay in the dark some while after he'd drifted off to sleep, she played out fantasies of accompanying him into Carcino, of being by his side just as she had been during the War of the Stones. But even if it were not completely inappropriate for a princess to risk herself so, even if she would not have been a burden to a fast-moving elite troop, she knew all too well that she could not join him, for it was not her life alone she would be putting at risk. Ever since she had told him, Seth often lay his hands on her belly, looking almost giddy each and every time. His child, their child...

When she did finally drift to sleep, Eirika's rest was fitful and she often dreamt that night of Kartan, the lofty towers of its city hall, ablaze.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

As the wind howled through the canyon ahead, hollow-sounding and forlorn as it echoed off the stony escarpments, Seth was grateful for his fur-lined cloak, which cut the wind far more effectively than his coat alone would have. It had been a gift from Eirika who would spare no expense to keep him warm and to ease the ache in his shoulder.

"There doesn't seem to be any other way through," Kyle said, standing at Seth's elbow. They had been tracking the mercenary army in south Carcino for several days now, but their adversaries were familiar with the territory and were moving at a quick pace.

Navigating the hills and valleys at the foot of the mountain range that separated Renais and Carcino's southlands had proved challenging and their geographical information of the area, woefully inaccurate. Even so, they had forged ahead, for it was becoming increasingly clear to Seth that the force spotted here was no ordinary mercenary band. They wore no emblems, nothing to indicate that they served either faction of the council, nor even the name of their company, yet they were not a nameless rag-tag band: their efficiency and the degree of organization of their ranks, glimpsed from afar by his scouts, indicated otherwise.

"You're certain there's no passage through the hills?" He trusted Kyle and would not normally have questioned him so, but the sight of the narrow passage and the brush-covered crags overhead unsettled him. There had been no indication that the mercenary troop had discovered their presence, but even so... If Seth were planning an ambush, this is where he would do it.

Kyle shook his head. "Syrene and the others have spotted nothing from the air and our scouts on foot haven't been able to find a way into the hills that doesn't involve a great deal of scrabbling and sliding; it would be next to impossible to get an army up through there."

For several minutes Seth remained silent as he scanned the canyon. How would he plan an attack if he were trying ambush a incoming force? And how could such a force respond? It had been a long time since he had had to think in terms of infantry alone; cavalry units were central to most armies.

"General?" Kyle said finally.

"We're moving ahead, but we'll proceed in a tight formation, shields at the ready. And I want our archers and our three pegasus knights to hang back along with our mage-healer. If all's well they can follow us through. If not then they're to provide support."

"Yes, sir."

The tension in the lines was obvious as they formed up and prepared to march through the canyon. They might only be flinching at shadows, but these men and women were seasoned veterans and knew better than to take their safety for granted. Shields were unslung, bows strung, and swords unsheathed. When Seth drew his sword as he took his place at the front of the ranks, he was overwhelmed by the realization that if this were a trap, it would be the first time he'd used his sword since he'd left Renais, since his last sparring match with Eirika. During the war he had grown used to fighting with her close-by; he had drawn strength from the knowledge that he was fighting to protect her. Now he had to remind himself that he was fighting to return to her... to her and their unborn child.

Seth glanced to his left and right to see Kyle, Gilliam, and Garcia taking up position. The canyon was narrow; five armed men could march shoulder to shoulder– no more. Retreat would be tactically difficult and costly. Staying put was not an option, nor circling around to find a safer way through the hills. They could not afford to lose track of their quarry. Moving forward was their only choice.

Seth turned to face his troops; he knew their faces if not all their names. "I needn't tell you to keep up your guard," he said to them. "You are the elite of Frelia and Renais, the soldiers who saved the world from darkness and restored Renais during the war of the stones. I am proud to have you at my back." He could see them stand a little straighter as he spoke, and hold their heads up with pride, just as they had nearly four years ago. These were good soldiers; he could not have asked for better. Seth raised his sword. "Move out!"

As one, the column of Frelian-Renais infantry marched. The clank of their shields against their armour echoed on the canyon walls, redoubling into a cacophony worthy of a much larger force, as if they were a thousand men strong rather than a mere hundred. The first third of the canyon was cleared and still the rhythm of their footfalls was unbroken. Seth eyed the escarpments looming overhead and the thick brush which would have made it easy to conceal a band of archers should they have known a path through those hills that his own forces has been unable to discover. Even in the cold, Seth could feel sweat beading his brow beneath his helm. In a few moments they would be at the halfway mark and they would know.

Movement in the corner of his eye. His shield arm reacted without thought and an instant later he heard the clunk of arrows striking the shield, followed by the screams of soldiers.

Seth did not need to look to know that his misgivings had been correct– archers concealed in the brush on the escarpments. They must have been lying in wait perhaps since last night or yesterday even. That meant the rest of the forces must be–

He heard their battle cry before the second flurry of arrows rained down on his forces. He darted a glanced over his shield and saw them, his elusive quarry, pouring into the far end of the canyon charging toward the Renais unit. The sound of their footfalls drowned out the screams of his men. Even veteran ranks could succumb to panic– Seth knew this. He had seconds to decide on a course of action before their ranks crumbled into chaos. Their foes could not know the strength and experience of his troops. They were trying to force a retreat, hoping to harry them back down the canyon and scatter their ranks before they could regroup. He had something else in mind.

Seth's voice thundered between the canyon walls as she shouted, "Forward!"

"Forward!" echoed familiar voices on either side of him. In an instant the word had become a rallying cry and together the Renais troops raced forward to meet their foes even as the arrows rained down on them.

A streak of white overhead caught his eye. Seth's throat tightened as he realized Syrene had ordered her pegasus knights against the archers in spite of the terrible risk they faced. One arrow to their mounts could send them careening to the ground. But worry vanished as the rain of arrows faltered and the screams of the mercenary archers resounded off the canyon walls. The Renais ranks surged forward to meet the mercenary army.

The force of the first strike nearly bowled Seth over as the inertia of his unit met the mercenaries' charge head on, crashing against their ranks like water against a rocky coast. But they pressed forward, slashing at the opposing infantry. Seth cut them down like blades of grass. Blood spattered his face, stained the ground. Soon they were stepping over the dead in order to meet their foes.

He could see on the faces of his enemies their bewilderment as his forces pressed forward and began to push them back. Had these sell-sword expected them to falter and fall back so easily? If they had so underestimated the might of Renais then they deserved every wound, every loss they received. He had looked on the face of the Demon King himself, sworn an oath of fealty to the warrior-king of his country, and promised its princess that he would return to her forever and always. What were the likes of these sell-swords to him?

When Seth heard the first cries of alarm from the rear of the enemy ranks his heart surged with pride and no little sense of triumph. At the edge of his field of vision he could see the flurry of arrows that soared over the heads of his troops and fell upon the mercenary ranks. His archers, though few in number, had moved into the canyon and begun firing on the enemy, just as he'd directed them to.

Seth forced his blade against that of his opponent, shoving the man backwards. They had the momentum now; the mercenaries were being forced back. Seth raised his shield, blocking his enemy's sword, and slashed with his blade, catching his opponent under the arm in the gap in his armour. He had raised his sword for a finishing blow when something barrelled into their ranks from above. Finding himself on the ground, Seth scrambled to get back to his feet, his eyes scanning his environs for the enemy, and it was a moment before his mind, hazy with battle furor, realized with dull horror what it was that had bowled over their ranks. He had to blink several times and tilt his head before the crumpled wings and the limbs, bent into odd angles, made sense to him and he saw the pegasus for what it was. Its once lustrous white pelt was splashed with blood, the feathers of its wings, bent and broken, its dark eyes, wide and staring.

Forcing his eyes away from the slain pegasus, he scanned the enemy ranks. Their front line, like his own, was picking itself up, but rather than pressing forward, the mercenaries took advantage of the distraction to fall back. "Regroup!" Seth called to his forces. "To me Renais! To me Frelia! Regroup!"

The Frelian-Renais soldiers, their armour battered and their faces and blades splashed with blood, rallied around Seth, reforming their ranks. "Press on and harry them to the end of the canyon. Onward!"

They stormed over the slain after the retreating mercenaries. Seth raised his shield as a few arrows from the mercenaries' scattered rear-guard pelted his forces. A man to his right fell, but they pressed onward. When a man appeared from out of the enemy ranks, cowled and cloaked and stood his ground at the end of the canyon Seth cursed under his breath. "Get down!" he shouted an instant before the thunderbolt struck the centre of their ranks. Again, Seth found himself on the ground. It was more difficult to raise himself this time; he had fallen badly and pain pulsed through his right shoulder. Wisps of smoke rose from a blackened patch of earth and the scent of charred flesh wafted to his nostrils. A mage, he should have expected them to have a mage. It was with great pride, however, that Seth realized that his archers were still on the move. He looked up in time to see an arrow catch the mage in the shoulder. The man staggered back and retreated into the brush at the far end of the canyon.

They were slower to regroup this time, dazed by the attack of mage, who had played his role well and slowed down Seth's forces considerably. By the time they had reached the area where the canyon walls opened into gentle slopes, studded with firs and pines and thick with underbrush, the remains of the mercenary band were already a fair distance away and disappearing into the more wooded patches ahead.

"Shall we follow them, General?"

Seth turned to Kyle and shook his head. "No. We've routed them. With any luck we can get the information we need from the survivors." His eyes scanned the bodies that littered the canyon behind them. They had routed the enemy, but it was difficult to consider the battle a victory when one considered the cost. "It's time to see to our own." It was as he spoke the words that he noticed the first snowflakes drifting down and melting when they touched the still-warm blood on the ground.

**ooo**

Seth steeled himself before asking the question. "What's the total?"

Kyle stood at attention. His air was grim as he made his report. "Twenty-two dead including the two pegasus knights. Seven walking wounded, and eight grievously wounded– nine with Syrene," he added, his eyes flitting to something in his hand. Seth caught a glimpse of a wooden figurine; he thought it might have been a tiny pegasus, but Kyle's hand clenched around it before he could be certain and it hardly seemed like the proper time to ask.

"How is Nayce managing?" Nayce was the healer he'd chosen to have accompany their band. Seth did not know the man well– during the war the healers he had seen most often were Natasha, Moulder, and Princess L'Arachel– but Nayce had always seemed a steady, hard-working fellow and his ability to use offensive magic in addition to healing staves had made him an ideal candidate for this mission.

"He seems to be holding up well enough. He's been doing his best with the serious injuries while everyone else has been patching each other up the old fashioned way in the meantime."

"Good." Seth sighed and looked out over the hastily assembled camp they had set up at the canyon's mouth. Tents were still being unpacked and assembled by those with enough stamina, while here and there men and women were stripping off their armour and tending smaller wounds as the snowflakes began to settle into a white blanket at their feet. It was with relief that Seth had learned that Kyle, Gilliam, and Garcia had all come out the battle without injuries, but when he'd been informed about Syrene... He would not by any means claim that they were close, but he'd fought alongside her in the war and he knew she was very dear to Tana. "About Syrene," Seth began. Kyle's head snapped up. "How bad is it?"

"It's..." Kyle shook his head. "She was shot out of the sky. She would be dead except that, by the looks of it, her mount tried to take the brunt of the blow when they fell. Her pegasus tried to spare her life even as it died. Even so, her legs are badly crushed and there are other injuries... Healing staves have their limits."

"I see." Seth hung his head. All three pegasus had died, shot down by the enemy archers. He had hoped to spare them, but they had been Syrene's to command and their sacrifice had allowed the rest of their forces to gain the upper hand. Not one of the enemy archers had survived the encounter with Frelia's winged knights.

"Gilliam's with her now," Kyle added after several moments' silence.

Seth pushed away the thought of his sister-by-marriage, of the expression on Tana's face if he had tell her that Syrene had fallen in battle... "How many prisoners do we have?" he asked instead.

"Only three who are in any state to speak."

"And were they inclined to talk?"

Kyle nodded. "They knew little enough, though. It seems their employer worked through an intermediary. They said his name was Haren. He recruited most of them out of Jehanna. They were paid, armed, and ordered to march to a location further north where they would receive further orders. Their commander didn't reveal any more than that– at least not to the ones we captured ."

"And this Haren, what sort of man was he?" Seth asked.

"They say he had the look of a Jehanna mercenary, one who's done well for himself. Tanned skin, sun-bleached hair, neatly trimmed beard, fine clothes." The description caught Seth's attention immediately. "Sir Seth?"

"The man who poisoned Elder Klimt was described in similar terms and I caught a glimpse of him during the riot in Kartan."

"So you think these troops are part of the Edvard faction?"

Seth shook his head. "Edvard is dead yet this Haren is still receiving orders. I fear that someone else is pulling the strings. Do you have anything else to report?"

"Only one thing." Kyle paused to reach for a scabbarded sword he had brought with him when he'd arrived to make his report. He brushed the snowflakes off it and handed it to Seth. "Most of the mercenaries were armed with swords like this one, all of the same make and all very new."

Seth unsheathed the blade and inspected it. He grimaced. "These swords are of Guernic's make."

"You mean councilman Guernic? I thought he'd remained neutral. If he's arming Edvard's faction..."

Seth shook his head. "It could mean either he's arming both sides or that he's not as neutral as he might like us to think. It can't be a coincidence that these mercenaries were travelling through his lands." The air was filled with tumbling snowflakes now that danced on the rising wind before gliding to the earth. Looking across camp was like trying to peer through lace curtains. "There's nothing more we can do for the moment, though. We need to finish setting up camp and–" He winced as he raised his hand to brush away the snowflakes that had settled in his hair and a stab of pain shot from his shoulder through to his forearm.

"General Seth, are you–"

"It's nothing. Take care of yourself and your armour now; you've earned your rest," he said clapping Kyle on the shoulder. Like Seth, Kyle was still in his armour. Dirt streaked his face, his hair was matted, and there was a gash on his left cheek oozing blood. Seth doubted that he himself appeared any less the worse for wear.

"You as well, Sir Seth." There was a hint of a smile on Kyle's lips. "The king will have my hide if he hears I've let you neglect your health."

"You needn't worry yourself," Seth assured him, and indeed it was about time he remove his armour and clean himself up. It was with distaste that he could feel dried blood on his face and knew that it was not his own.

Seth's boots squeaked on the snow as he wandered through the snow-hazed camp, searching for a place to remove his things. When he did finally find a tent in which clean water and wash rags had been set out for use, it was with a sigh of relief that he began to strip off his armour. His shoulder ached all the while.

As he tried to wash away the gore of the battle, he found his thoughts drifting to the war four years ago, to one of the rare times when, exhausted, he had allowed Eirika to tend him. She was a princess; such duties were beneath her, but she had insisted and, for once, he had been too tired to protest. He remembered how she had unfastened the straps of his breast plate and helped him ease it off. Had he imagined the flush in her cheeks when he'd peeled off his shirt? His shoulder had ached, but he had remained stony-faced, though he wondered now whether his facade has deceived her at all. She had always known somehow, while none other had ever suspected.

Seth flinched as he pressed a damp rag against his skin; the water was icy. But that day, all those years ago, the water had been warm as she had wiped the blood from his face. It had been a terrible indulgence, he knew, but he had closed his eyes to bask in her touch as her fingers grazed his skin every now an then. Her ministrations were gentle, soothing even, but at the same time a shameful sense of delight had thrilled through his veins; under any other circumstances even such fleeting touches would have been forbidden. At the time, the thought that he would marry her, that one day her hands would roam his body without shame or censure, was an absurdity.

By the time Seth had made himself and his armour presentable, his skin was covered with gooseflesh and he had a sudden longing for their days in the Jehanna desert. They were not so far from King Joshua's country, but here, in the mountainous regions, they might as well have been in the far north of the continent. Though chilled, he at least felt human again as he gathered his things and stepped out into camp once again. He had hoped to get a sense of how settled in they'd become, but all he could see as he stepped out of the tent was a curtain of snow. Coin-sized clumps of snowflakes were bandied about by the wind before tumbling to the ground. His tracks leading up to the tent had already been filled and had all but disappeared.

As Seth look upwards at the endless expanse of white, the cold seemed to settle into the pit of his stomach. The snow had come early. Even if they set out at dawn, there was no way they would reach the mountain paths to Renais before they became impassible until the spring thaw. They were in the wilderness with supplies meant to last them two months and no pegasus riders to dispatch for aid or even to relay a message home.

His gaze swept gathering white. They were trapped.

* * *

**A/N:** Just in case anyone didn't catch it, the wooden figurine Kyle has comes from his support conversations. In both his Lute and Syrene supports, Kyle mentions that he collects carved animal figurines. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

As Eirika watched the wind whip the falling snow into a frenzy, it was not the draught from the window that made her shudder.

"Eirika." She felt her brother's arm around her shoulders. She knew he wished to comfort her, but for the first time she could remember, it was not enough.

"He must be so cold," she whispered, her eyes fixed on the blustery scene beyond the windowpane.

Ephraim gave her a squeeze. "Seth knows how to take care of himself. He'll be all right." She shut her eyes, for she could imagine him trudging through the snow, hungry and frost-bitten, his shoulder aching in the cold. He was suffering. She bit her lip. "I'm sorry," Ephraim said quietly. "I never thought the snow would come this early."

"I know," she replied, giving his hand a squeeze. The day she had woken and looked out to find the ground covered with a blanket of snow, she had felt the kind of terror she'd not experienced since the war. Every day that it grew colder and the snow did not melt away, proving itself to be the herald of an early winter, she was plagued by worry. Where was he? Was he safe? Was he alive? When she lay awake at night, she tried to stave off doubts by imagining how he would deal with the situation, how he would engineer his own survival along with that of his troops. In her mind she watched him eat of their meagre supplies, scour the woods for game, and stagger through snowdrifts. Sometimes as she drifted off to sleep, she saw herself there with him, curled next him beneath his blankets as he slept, keeping him warm.

"Tana's worried about you. She thinks you're not eating enough."

Eirika sighed. Even now, she was barely showing, though Tana assured her that in a few more weeks she'd be as wide as a wyvern. "I'm trying. It's just hard when... I am trying." Her hand rested over her belly. Of course she wanted to take care of their child. When she was most afraid, she drew comfort from that fact that she carried a part of Seth inside her, that no matter what happened in Carcino they had created something together, another life, a child who was a part of them, but who would grow to be more, a separate person, independent of them.

"Come on," Ephraim said, motioning towards the table in the centre of the room with a jut of his chin. "They'll be here soon."

Eirika nodded and took her seat at the table. Vanessa had arrived a few hours ago; she had been designated the representative of Frelia. She had experience in war and could speak to the capabilities of Frelia's military, especially its pegasus knights, but Eirika could not help but think that she had also been chosen because her sister was one of the missing. If her errand accomplished nothing else, it would at least allow her to feel that she was doing something– which was more than Eirika could say for herself.

_Oh my love, I wish I were there with you_. She knew it was a foolish wish, an impossible wish. It was strange, but she found herself longing for the days of the war; back then they had faced peril together.

It was a select group that filed into the room. Ephraim had wanted only his most trusted comrades and those most interested in the matter to attend. Franz and Forde, Vanessa on behalf of King Hayden and Prince Innes, and Ross, who, now a sergeant, had officially joined Renais' ranks alongside his father after the war. There would be a more general council held to discuss details of the situation in Carcino which would be more widely-attended, but today's session was a personal matter. Tana arrived several minutes later.

"I'm sorry," she said as she entered and closed the door behind her. "Tylar's been fussy today."

"How are the munchkins doing, your majesty?" Forde asked with a grin as Tana took her seat.

"They're fine," Tana replied. "They miss their uncle, though," she added, reaching out to squeeze Eirika's hand beneath the table. Eirika smiled at her friend and sister-by-marriage.

"Here's the current state of things," Ephraim began once they were all settled in. "The threat of open hostilities between Frelia and Carcino has been put on hold due to the early snow. We have a joint force that will remained stationed on the north border and keep an eye on things. There's still fighting in the streets of Carcino's largest cities. Several council members from either faction have been killed in duels or assassinated. Port Kiris is under the control of the Edvard faction, Naran and Hular are held by the Klimt faction, and Kartan is hotly disputed. Mercenaries from each faction are holed up in various parts of the city. That's how things stand at present. Unless there have been any developments..." He looked to Vanessa.

She shook her head. "Prince Innes has learned nothing new from his contacts. The factions seem to be at a stalemate."

"All right then... the joint unit we sent to infiltrate south Carcino. We've heard nothing from Seth's forces. I'd hoped he'd be out of there before the snow but..." Ephraim's eyes flitted to the window. "I'd also hoped that if there were problems he could send a message via pegasus. That hasn't happened, but weather conditions in the mountain may have rendered even that impossible. Forde."

"Yes, King Ephraim."

"You had word from our scouts?"

Even Forde could not manage a smile as he relayed his report. "The east mountain paths are completely blocked, impassable even on foot and there's no sign of our troops. As far as we can tell they're stranded in the south Carcino valleys along with the mercenary band they were pursuing. We still don't know any more about the band's identity either. The scouts talked with the locals to find out if there were any other paths through the mountains that might still be feasible, but..." Forde shook his head. "Nothing."

"So they're trapped until the thaw, is that what you're saying?" Franz asked.

"Essentially," Ephraim replied.

"My dad said it was supposed to be a short mission," Ross began. "They don't have the supplies to last them until the thaw, do they?"

Ephraim looked Ross in the eye. "No."

For a full minute, the silence was absolute. Everyone there had loved ones among the missing– friend, father, sister, husband– just as every foot soldier had family waiting for him or her. It pained Eirika to think of how many others outside of this room suffered just as she did. She was a princess– could even have been a queen– but her situation was no different than that of any common soldier's wife.

"With all due respect, your highness," Ross all but snarled, "did you call us here just to tell us that they're going to have to fend for themselves and that there's nothing we can do in the meantime?" Eirika could not help but think that, had Kyle been there, he would have chided the young man for his tone. Judging by the looks on Forde's and Ephraim's faces she suspected she was not the only one to have the thought.

"Actually," Ephraim said, his tone as even as ever, "I was hoping to hear if anyone had any ideas."

"What about mages?" Ross suggested. "Couldn't they clear a path?"

"I think even Lute would have trouble melting an entire mountain," Tana replied.

"Wyverns?" suggested Forde.

Vanessa shook her head. "If pegasus can't pass then neither can wyverns. We can fly though mountainous areas but not clear over a mountain range."

"I suppose," Franz began, "that we couldn't send a force from Jehanna into Carcino?"

"I'm afraid not," Ephraim replied. "We can't openly reveal that we sent our forces there." He raised a hand for forestall protest from Ross. "Even if politics weren't an issue, the valleys we sent them into aren't any more accessible from Jehanna than they are from our side. It's the geography and the weather that are our enemies at present."

"Vanessa?" The entire room turned to look at Eirika as she spoke.

"Yes, Lady Eirika?"

"Can a pegasus carry two over long distances?"

Vanessa tilted her head, her brow crinkled. "Yes, though it limits both speed and height."

"I was thinking that it might be worth going to Caer Pelyn to consult with Master Saleh and the village elder. They might know of some passage into the valleys. Seth's forces couldn't be that far from the southern tip of the Caer Pelyn Range after all."

Tana was nodding as Eirika spoke. "That sound like a worthwhile idea," she said. " The passes from Jehanna should still be manageable by pegasus even at this time of year."

"But, if I may, Lady Eirika," Vanessa began, still looking puzzled, " why do you ask if a pegasus can carry two?"

Eirika made a point of avoiding Ephraim's eyes though she was aware that he had turned and was glaring at her. "No," Ephraim said. "Eirika, no."

"Brother," she said warningly.

"You're with child!" The rest of the table was watching them with various degrees of confusion on their faces.

"Not so much that I can't travel."

"I can't let you put yourself in danger," Ephraim retorted.

"And what danger do you image there to be in Caer Pelyn?" said Eirika, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring in her brother's direction. He did not have an answer.

It was Vanessa who spoke after a few moment's silence. "Then you mean to go to Caer Pelyn yourself, Lady Eirika?"

"Yes. Can King Hayden spare one of his pegasus knights?"

"I can take you myself," Vanessa offered. "With King Ephraim's permission of course," she added, glancing uneasily at Ephraim whose silence Eirika knew betokened her victory in the matter.

He waved his hand vaguely. "Yes, yes." He heaved a sigh and turned to look at Eirika again, his brow furrowed, his lips thinned to a line. "There's no use arguing with you once you got an idea in your head. I don't know how Seth manages."

Eirika smiled at hearing her husband's name even while a pang of longing made her breath catch in her throat. At least now she would be doing something; anything would be better than just waiting.

"Thank you, Vanessa," Tana said, and once more Eirika could feel Tana's hand over hers beneath the table. "You're certain my father won't mind?"

Vanessa shook her head. "I was given leave to do anything that would assist in finding our comrades. Caer Pelyn isn't so far by pegasus, though I suppose we'll have to detour over northern Jehanna to avoid passing through Carcino. Four or five days would be my guess."

"I'd go with you if Elin and Tylar weren't so young," Tana said. "Achaeus doesn't get to stretch his wings nearly as much as he'd like anymore."

"How soon would you like to depart, Lady Eirika?" Vanessa asked.

"Tomorrow if that's not too soon."

It was agreed upon that they would leave the next day. Since there was little else to discuss, the meeting was called to a close. As her comrades of old trickled out of the room, Eirika found herself drawn to the window again to watch the snow cover the land like a white shroud. It was a full minute before she realized that Tana and Ephraim had remained behind. "You needn't worry, Ephraim. With Vanessa there and Master Saleh, what danger could there be?" she said before he could voice any objections. But he did not protest; he only sighed.

"I know but... When you travel normally, and even when you went off during the war I always felt I didn't need to worry too much– because Seth was with you. I knew he'd always protect you when I couldn't."

Eirika clenched her fists, determined not to shed tears in front of her brother. She had wept enough, both alone and on Tana's shoulder. She dared not anymore; her child must surely think it a tragic world as all he– or she– ever heard was the sound of her sobs. It was not like her to fall apart so easily, but her emotions were so charged of late that it was difficult to manage them sometimes. Tana had assured her it was normal.

And even now Tana seemed to sense her struggle, though Eirika had not turned from the window, for she lay a hand on Eirika's shoulder. "Everything will be fine," Tana assured her. "Do you really think anything could keep Seth away from you for very long?" Eirika chuckled in spite of it all and turned to let Tana pull her into a hug. "I need to check on Tylar again, but come see me later, all right?"

"All right."

Tana paused next to Ephraim. Smiling, he reached out to caress her face. He whispered something to her and then, with a smile of her own, Tana, left. Eirika's heart ached to watch them.

She found herself thinking of the first time Tana had visited Renais. It had been for a jousting tournament. It was customary for ladies to offer their favourites a token and Tana had offered Ephraim one of her gloves. He'd accepted with grace, if a little distantly, for his thoughts had– of course– been focussed on defeating Innes. Poor Tana– Ephraim had been so oblivious that it was only when she'd had a spear in her own hands that he'd taken proper notice of her. It was so like him. But it was also a proper match that their father would certainly have approved of. A match that united Renais and Frelia by blood; what could more politic? Except perhaps a match between herself and...

"Ephraim?" she said all at once. "Do you know whether father intended me for anyone?"

"Intended? Are you asking me if father had a political marriage planned for you?" She nodded absently, still facing the window; her hands were chilled from the draught. "Why are you asking all of a sudden?"

She shrugged. "Just now I was thinking of the jousts when we were younger. Tana gave you a token every time you rode out. You hardly noticed, did you?"

"I was... distracted," he said, and, glancing over at him, she could see him square his shoulders and adjust his crown.

"Honestly, you and Innes..."

"Don't start," he grumbled. "Tana never lets me forget how terribly I neglected her when we were young. Once, when she was with child the first time, she got into a huff one night and told me I should have married Innes instead."

Eirika laughed. "Oh dear. I think you'd kill each other within a fortnight."

"Now what's this about the jousts and you being intended for– Ah." He nodded to himself. "You used to give a token to Seth when he rode, didn't you?"

She smiled, though she knew even then that it did not touch her eyes. "Every time since I was a child."

She could remember with perfect clarity the first time she had seen Seth fight. It had been at the spring tournament the year she'd turned ten. He had been eighteen and newly knighted, a rising star among the Renais ranks. Since times were peaceful, tournaments were held to allow the knights to keep in form, and jousting was the main event. The knights donned full armour and their lances were blunted to avoid serious injuries. Even the horses were armoured beneath their caparisons. With healers on site there was little danger to the participants.

There had been a festival atmosphere to the tournaments with the bright pennants that flapped in the breeze and the colourful tabards and caparisons donned by the knights and their mounts. There was food and drink aplenty. Lords and ladies, come to visit from all over the countryside, pitched tents in the colours of their house emblems and, since they were not competing in the jousts, instead competed to see who could hold the finest picnic. But it was always the knights that had held her attention, their armour glinting in the sunlight so brightly that you sometimes had to squint to look at them. The armour weighed as much as fifty pounds and she knew that, like her brother, most of these knights had begun training from childhood to be able to don plate mail and lift their lances. Watching them charge the lists had always at once thrilled and terrified her; it was a spectacle of strength and martial prowess, but she could not help but worry for the knights, many of whom were familiar retainers. That heady mixture of excitement and fear had been even more potent when she had been told that this year Seth would be participating. As a squire he'd often been assigned to watch over her and Ephraim, and her father had always been fond of him– as had she.

As royals, her family had of course had the finest seats in the very centre of the stands, with a canopy overhead to keep off the noonday sun. She'd watched the matches from there, eagerly awaiting Seth's appearance. It was a common practice for ladies to present a token to their favourites, and so, when it had finally been Seth's turn, she had called him over to the stands and given him her handkerchief– for good luck, she had said, because it was his first joust. "Thank you, little one," he had replied, taking the handkerchief and affixing it to his lance.

He'd performed splendidly and never once been unhorsed. Four days later, at the end of the tournament, he had come to her and thanked her for the good luck charm. Since then, at every joust she had given him a token to carry. For years he had accepted her token, smiling and with a word of thanks. Eirika tried to remember when that had changed. She had been sixteen or seventeen, she thought, the first time she'd offered him her handkerchief and he had hesitated, glancing over her shoulder to where her father sat. Out of the corner of her eye she'd seen her father nod; then and only then had Seth taken the proffered item with a "Thank you, my lady."

Eirika felt a little silly now for the naive bewilderment she'd experienced at the time. How could she not have realized that she'd reached an age when such a gesture might not be viewed with innocence by onlookers? And poor Seth at some point in the years before the war must have realized that he was in the awkward position of having fallen in love with the Princess of Renais. What had her father been thinking then? He could have taken her aside before the tournament to suggest that she drop the tradition she had adopted with Seth as a child. But he never had.

Eirika shook herself. "Do you think father expected me to marry Lyon?"

Ephraim let out a slow, deep breath. "I think... that father would have been thrilled if you'd wanted to marry Lyon, but I can't see him ever forcing your hand. Do you have any reason to think otherwise?"

With a sigh Eirika leaned back against the window frame, the draught at her back. "No. Not really." Had her father suspected Seth's feelings? And if so, had he suspected hers? How could he have done so when she never had? Seth was her knight and had always been her favourite, but never until Renais had fallen had she allowed to herself to dwell on how fond she truly was of her dear Silver Knight. The war had made clear to her her feelings for Seth, just as seeing Tana fighting as a pegasus knight seemed to have opened Ephraim's eyes and heart. These things had only come to pass because of the war and the death of their father.

"You know father was fond of Seth, don't you?" said Ephraim.

"I know."

"And you know... He played things close to the vest sometimes, but I always felt that he wanted our happiness, that he looked out for us as a father first and a king second." A smile quirked his lips. "And as a father myself I can't imagine doing otherwise. Now about this trip of yours... You'll be careful?"

Eirika nodded. "I will." She wrapped her arms around her middle, smiling. "I'll take care of your niece or nephew as well. You needn't worry about us."

"Good. Go on then; you've got preparations to make."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Though Eirika had rarely ever spoken to Vanessa at length, she proved a pleasant travelling companion. There was little opportunity to converse during the long hours in the air atop her pegasus, but in the evening when they made camp Vanessa entertained Eirika with stories of her training as a pegasus knight and Syrene's many feats as a commander. It seemed to ease her mind to speak of her sister. In turn, Eirika recounted her favourite anecdotes about her husband and she found that, in spite of her worry for him, it put a smile on her face.

The mountain air, as they left Jehanna and began to make their way through the windy passes that led through the Caer Pelyn Range, was frigid and clawed at the exposed skin on her face. She had dressed in the finest winter wear she could procure, including fur a lined coat, mantle, boots and hat, and a woolen scarf and mittens. Even so, the skin on her cheeks felt raw, and sometimes, when the wind gusted straight at them, she felt as if the very moisture in her eyes would freeze. All the while she could only think to herself how much worse it must be for Seth who had been in the cold all these weeks.

Eirika heart's heart pounded as they made their ascent through the craggy canyons and over the knife-edged peaks of the Caer Pelyn Range towards the village of Caer Pelyn. Vanessa had hoped they could make the village before nightfall and they now found themselves in a race against the setting sun. Her pulse raced as she watched the sun sinking into the west, heedless of their chase. Its light turned the red stone of the crags to a deep scarlet, like blood, fresh upon the mountain's peaks.

"There it is!" Vanessa called over her shoulder. A few seconds later Eirika caught sight of the village, a small collection of cots and cabins. Hope thrilled through her for the first time in days.

Eirika had not had her two feet on the ground more than a few seconds before she was greeted by a red-headed lad who looked peculiarly familiar.

"Princess Eirika! It's been a long time. How are you?"

It was several moments before she realized who he was and when she did she chided herself for not recognising him sooner. "Ewan? I hardly recognised you! You've grown more than a foot since I last saw you."

He grinned from ear to ear. "How are you? I hope you guys didn't get tangled up in the war." Eirika tried to form a response, but it must have shown on her face, for he said, "You did, didn't you? Did you come to see Master Saleh?"

"Yes. And the elder as well."

Ewan's air grew sober at once. "Master Saleh's in the his home in the valley. It's a full day's travel by foot with the snow and ice on the paths."

"I might be able to speed things up," said Vanessa, patting her pegasus on the nose.

"I guess it's urgent then?"

Eirika nodded. "Could you ask him to come for us?"

"We can set out at dawn. What should I tell him, though?"

Eirika bit her lip and steeled herself. "We need to know if there are any paths into the valleys of south Carcino that are still open to us. Master Saleh is well travelled and the elder and the other inhabitants of Caer Pelyn know the land. If anyone could help I thought it would be all of you."

Ewan peered at her, his brow furrowed, his head tilted to one side. After a few seconds he shook himself. "I should get you guys out of the cold. Sorry. The elder'll scold me for being rude... I'll find you guys a place to stay for the night and something to eat. Maybe after that you can tell me the whole story?"

"Thank you, Ewan," Eirika replied. She hung back a moment as Ewan lead them away. As night fell she looked out towards the south. Her heart raced, for tonight she was a little closer to the one she loved.

**ooo**

Eirika started as she heard a knock on the doorframe behind her. She was seated at the small table near the hearth in the main room of the cot in which she and Vanessa had spent the night. Trying to calm her racing heart, Eirika took a deep breath and, slowly, turned. It was late in the day, but even so she was surprised to see Saleh in the doorway. Vanessa must have made spectacular time.

"Princess Eirika," Saleh greeted her with a half bow.

"Master Saleh." Eirika stood and regretted it a moment later as the world spun. She reached for the table to steady herself. She felt Saleh next to her gripping her arm to steady her.

"Princess?"

She took a deep breath and released it slowly. "I'm fine. I've been a little light-headed all day."

Saleh nodded. "You're ill from the height of the mountain, just as you were the last time you visited."

Eirika nodded. "So it seems."

"It will pass in a day or two. Try not to exert yourself."

"I'm all right," she said and stepped away from him. The world seemed stable once again, though her head ached dully as it had since she'd woken. They'd offered her a local tea; it had helped a little. "It's good to see you again, Master Saleh. It's been quite a while." In fact, she'd not seen the mage since the end of the war. He, like all of their comrades, had been invited to Ephraim's and Tana's wedding as well as to hers and Seth's, but he'd declined both invitations. He looked little changed, a mite greyer around the edges perhaps, but his expression remained as placid as ever.

He bowed his head. "I've wanted offer you my congratulations on your marriage... I only wish the circumstances were happier."

"Thank you," she whispered and she found herself gripping the silver pendant Seth had given her when he'd asked for her hand. They lapsed into silence. For all Eirika's years being taught to navigate the inns and outs of court and the chatter between nobles, she found herself at a loss for words. It was awkward to stand there not speaking, but all she could think of was Seth.

"If your message is urgent I can have it sent off immediately."

Eirika started. "Message?" He gestured towards the paper and quill at the table where she'd been sitting. "Oh." Eirika shook herself and tried to set aside her worry and the perpetual ache in her skull and order her thoughts. "It's not a message. I was writing a letter to Seth." Saleh raised an eyebrow. "For when he gets back," she explained. "I–" She turned and massaged her temples, feeling very tired– another symptom of mountain sickness, she'd been given to understand. The elder had suggested it might be worse this time since she had ascended the mountain more quickly. "When Seth gets back I want him to be able to read about the things he missed while he was away, especially about the baby."

Saleh blinked once, his eyebrows slightly raised; it was the most surprised she'd ever seen him look. "Ah. Congratulations, Princess. I wasn't aware you were with child."

"Thank you," she said, not meeting his eyes.

"I wish I had some hope to offer you, but..."

"I see." The room seemed smaller then, the air heavier, more difficult to breathe. "When do you expect the paths to thaw enough for travel to be possible?"

"It depends very much on the weather, but perhaps four months in the southern-western valleys, three in the ones near Caer Pelyn. Only desperation would drive one through the passes before then when the weather if treacherous and avalanches common. If I may ask, when is the child due?"

She had both hands on the surface of the table and was leaning heavily on it now, forcing back waves of anguish. A princess of Renais did not break into tears like a bawling infant. Those she most loved had seen her weep; she would not share her tears with any others. "In a little under three months," she replied finally.

"Ah. I am sorry, Princess. I'll speak with the elder of course. Between the two of us perhaps we can remember some mountain trail we've not thought of."

"Thank you, Master Saleh," she said, straightening. Seth would not be here for the birth of their child. Instead, he would be stranded in the cold with not enough food and with clothing meant for autumn weather. Yet there were other matters to be seen to. She remained the princess of Renais even while a wife and mother-to-be. "There are other matters I would speak on, but I..." She rubbed her temples once again. "Would you mind if we walked? Perhaps the fresh air will do me some good."

Saleh hesitated. "Exertion will only worsen the mountain sickness."

Eirika sighed. "Would you truly consider a few minutes' walk to be exertion? Please, Master Saleh, I've not left this place all day and I grow weary of being indoors."

He nodded and waited while she piled on her winter things. He'd not removed his thick woolen cloak so he only added on a scarf and hat. To her it seemed little enough protection against the frigid wind, but then, in all the time she had known him, Saleh seemed little moved by either heat or cold. She suspected it had something to do with his training as a mage, but had never asked. She noticed that his eyes traced her movements as she strapped on her sword belt, his brow ever so slightly furrowed, though he said nothing.

In silence they wandered the lanes between the cots and cabins of the village. Dusk was settling over Caer Pelyn and once more Eirika found the sun's dying light on the reddish stone brought to her mind the image of blood, splashed on the rocks. She wondered if she was the only one who thought so. "Master Saleh, I would ask if you know anything of the war, anything that might help us. We've had reason to suspect that not all is at it seems, especially in south Carcino. We were told of a troop of mercenaries in the southern valleys."

"And that's why Sir Seth was sent here? To investigate?" She nodded. "I'm afraid I have little information for you. Things have been quiet here in spite of the war. I've not travelled save between the valley and the village and occasionally to Darkling Wood to visit Lady Myrrh."

"How is she? Ephraim sends his regards."

"She'll be glad to hear there. She is very well." Their boots squeaked on the fresh snow. Overhead a raven cawed once and settled itself on the highest branch of one of the skeletal trees. It balanced there, swaying in a gust of wind, but held on. "Though come to think of it, I'm told we have some visitors, a trio of mercenaries it seems."

Eirika turned to look at Saleh. "Mercenaries?"

Saleh nodded. "I've not met them myself but it seems they arrived with the snow. They were headed for Jehanna. One of them injured himself on the way here, however, so they delayed their travels."

Eirika cocked her head, her brow furrowed. "I thought the path to Jehanna through Caer Pelyn was little known."

"True, but the man who injured himself has been here before years ago on his way to Jehanna. If memory serves he was born in one of the valleys south of here. His name is Haren."

"I should like to speak to these men," Eirika said. Mercenaries headed for Jehanna when there was ample work in Carcino?

"Princess Eirika, may I ask you something?"

"Yes of course."

"Do you always wear a sword now?"

A wistful smile played on her features. "Yes. Or nearly always. Ever since the attempt on Seth's life. I hope it isn't offensive to anyone here; it's just that I feel better knowing that I can defend myself if need be."

Saleh's lips curved into one of his rare smiles. "I don't believe I ever told you this, Princess Eirika, but you've always reminded me of the warrior princess Nada Kuya, one of Caer Pelyn's ancient heroes."

"Nada Kuya?"

He nodded. "Long ago she repelled an invasion on Caer Pelyn wielding a blade forged from the fang of the Great Dragon. She was said to be courageous, dignified, and kind."

Eirika found herself more than a little surprised to receive such praise from the normally taciturn Saleh. Truth be told she had not spent a great deal of time with him during the war and though he was a comrade she'd be hard pressed to call him a friend. "I'm flattered that you would think me at all like her, but I only do what I must."

"As do we all." He smiled again. She felt a smile on her own lips for half a second before a wave of despair rolled over her like a breaker washing away a child's fortress on a sandy beach. That she should walk with someone, smile at his words, speak to him of her child– and that it not be Seth... She chided herself; it was ridiculous to begrudge herself a moment's happiness, but all at once she wanted only to be away from Saleh. Why must this all be happening when she was with child, when she felt so little herself?

"Master Saleh," she said, keeping her voice even, "would you mind if I walked alone for a short while? I... I need to clear my thoughts."

His brow furrowed. "If you're not feeling well–"

"I'm fine," she cut across him. "Please, Master Saleh."

"As you wish," he said. If he was confused or offended he hid it well and left her without further protest. Though she felt more than a little ashamed, she was relieved to see him go.

**ooo**

As Eirika walked the lanes of Caer Pelyn she wondered if the village was always this quiet; she glimpsed one figure in the distance heading her way and none other. But it was cold and nearing nightfall, so she supposed it was not so unusual. In Renais there were always people about, servants scurrying on some errand or other, guardsmen making their rounds. Even in the dead of night the castle was never completely silent. Here, on the cusp of evening, there was only the sound of her boots crunching on the icy path and the wind creaking through the barren tree branches overhead.

Her mind swirled with thoughts of Seth, somewhere in the frozen wilderness. She tried to calm herself, but her stomach knotted with worry and her throat tightened as she thought that he would not be there when their child was born. She was torn between a desire to return home as quickly as possible to be with her brother and Tana, and a desire to remain here when she felt she was closer to Seth, silly as the feeling might be.

So caught up was she in her thoughts, that it was not till they were only a few paces apart that she looked up to see the approaching figure. When she glimpsed his face in the fading sunlight she froze, for she had seen that tanned, pale-bearded visage before. For a moment there was hope that he'd not noticed her alarm or that he had not recognised her and she would have a chance to alert Vanessa and Saleh, but when his hand darted to his sword hilt she knew her expression had given it away. It was the man she had seen in Kartan, in all likelihood the same man who had poisoned Elder Klimt. Saleh had called him Haren...

Eirika's hand was drawing her blade before she was even fully aware she was doing it. His eyes were scanning her, sizing her up. She took the opportunity to shift to the left so that she would have the sun at her back while she, in turn, searched him for the injury he was supposed to have received. If it were to keep him from travelling it would likely have been an injury to his leg, but his gait had seemed even– at least from a distance.

The sun glinted off Haren's blade and she squinted against the light. Fear surged through her as she realized this was the first time she had ever fought alone. During the war she had fought with the ranks of Renais troops and always someone had been protecting her: her brother, Seth, a comrade, or one of the common soldiers wanting to aid his princess. When she had fought Ursula for the first time no one had been protecting her, but Seth had been there, hers to protect, hers to fight for. Yet today... She kept her eyes rivetted to Haren, waiting for him to strike. Even as she did so, however, her free hand drifted to her belly as she realized that no, she was not alone; she was fighting to protect another after all.

"We needn't fight," she said. "You can go on your way." Her hands were steady, but she felt as if her entire body would begin to tremble at any moment.

Haren snorted. "A kind offer, princess, but I think I'd soon have a mage or two on my trail if I took you up on it."

His attack was as swift as a thunderbolt. She parried– a little desperately, she realized. She had to calm herself, just as when she trained with Seth. This was not the first time she'd duelled for her life. She breathed deeply of the frigid air, burning her lungs. Haren had been here longer; he would be used to the thin mountain air– another advantage he had over her. She needed to end this quickly.

Haren struck again and again while she blocked his blows, feigning weakness as best she could as she tried to get the measure of his style. There was little finesse to his fighting; his sword hammered down upon hers. It was all force and no footwork, but his sword arm was strong and his style, though brutish compared to Seth's, was effective nonetheless. Eirika's arms soon began to ache from the force of his blows.

Speed was her asset; Seth had always told her so and he'd helped her train to use that to her advantage. As Haren lunged at her she sidestepped and struck at him; he spun, barely blocking the strike and she could see a glint in his eye. He drew back, moved more cautiously now. They circled each other for several seconds. Then her eyes caught it– a hint of movement: his shoulders shifted like a cat about to pounce on a rat.

Eirika parried easily and seized the opportunity to take the offensive. She darted over the snow and ice, striking at Haren faster than he could riposte. Yet not once did her strike break through his defence and it was not long before her chest was heaving and sweat pouring down her brow in spite of the cold. Haren looked winded, but only slightly so.

When, in the distance, she glimpsed two more figures moving towards them, for a moment she thought she was saved. But just as quickly terror swept through her as she remembered Saleh's words: "a trio of mercenaries." She had to finish this now and run for help.

Eirika struck again, but this time Haren shoved her away and she went stumbling backwards. Her foot slipped on the ice and all at once he was upon her. Reflex took over and she raised her blade to ward off his– enough to divert it from its target, yet even so it was like white fire when the sword pierced her shoulder. It was worse when Haren yanked the blade out.

She cried out. Dazed, she found herself on her knees, gripping her right shoulder with her left hand and she could feel the warmth of the blood that flowed from the wound. Somehow she'd managed to keep her hold on her sword. The world wavered before her eyes. Haren's form loomed over her.

Like a bow-shot the realization that if she died so, too, would their child, hers and Seth's– and the world became as vivid as flame. She rolled away from the blow meant to fell her.

Eirika staggered to her feet and lunged at Haren. The pain of the wound was gone. The cold was gone, the aching of limbs and lungs had vanished. The world had taken on a crystalline clarity. She saw the surprise on Haren's face, looked past it to the set of his body, and readied herself. She parried his fumbling attack. He lunged; she countered. She could feel the rhythm of the dance, see the pattern of his steps. He was a cloddish partner.

And then her eye caught it, a slight waver in his movements, as if his left leg pained him. There! The injury that had delayed his travels! He had hidden it well, but now, even as the light faded into darkness, all was clear to her eyes. She feinted as if to strike on his right, but instead attacked on the left. He caught it at the last moment, but there was no force in his block and she was able to kick at his left leg. He howled as his injured leg buckled beneath him. Without hesitation, Eirika's blade slashed across his right forearm, severing the tendons there. His sword fell from his nerveless fingers and she kicked it away.

Haren cursed and gripped his arm. If he did not receive treatment quickly the loss of blood would kill him. It was only then that the sluggish realization of her own injury came to her. The cold seemed to seize her body and made her tremble, but she kept a white-knuckled grip on her sword and kept her eyes on Haren.

"Do something, dammit!" he shouted at her. "Get help before we're both food for crows." He was using his teeth to tear a strip from his cloak in order to bind the wound. She ignored him as she saw his two companions hovering some distance away.

Eirika's thoughts were muddied, her vision blotched by spots of white, but somehow she managed to reach the door of the nearest cot and wait for it to open. "Please find Master Saleh," she said through chattering teeth. The elderly woman in the doorway looked terrified but took off immediately. When Eirika's eyes returned to her attacker he'd not moved. His companions were growing further and further away. Fine comrades! They'd taken advantage of the distraction he'd provided them with to flee.

Leaning against the doorframe of the cottage, she thought to go back to where Haren was in case he tried something after all, but before she could take more than a step, a pain, quite distinct from the throb of her shoulder, sent her to her knees. She fell to the ground, gripping her belly, wracked with pain sharper than Haren's blade.

* * *

**A/N**: Just for the record, I wanted to point out that "Nada Kuya" is none of mine and, in fact, comes from the Eirika/Saleh supports.

Thanks for all the reviews so far; feedback is always welcome. Enjoy the cliffhanger. ;)


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

For a moment, as the setting sun bathed the valley in a saffron hue, Seth could almost have believed he was in Jehanna surrounded by a sea of sand, rather than a wasteland of snow and ice. He had never seen a place left so barren, with only tree stumps littering the hilltops. It was when he had first seen this place that he'd realized that they'd stumbled into Guernic's estates, the lands he'd ravaged to make his fortune.

Turning his attention from the land before them, Seth tracked the line of men who marched below the precipice where he and his band of archers were concealed. Here at the north end of the valley a few stands of trees remained. It had cost them a great deal of effort to reach here before their foes and set this ambush. The remainder of his forces had engaged the mercenary troop long enough for this small unit to circle around them and wait here where they would have no choice but to pass. They had spent a night in the cold without the benefit of a fire to keep them warm and tents to keep off the wind. They had travelled lightly and swiftly with only their weapons and a few blankets between them. But now, a full day later, the mercenary troop was headed this way, pursued by the rest of his soldiers who'd kept their foes moving at a hard pace. It was time to spring the trap.

Seth's breath caught in his throat. Just a few moment more... For all these weeks his forces had harried the mercenaries through the deepest months of winter. If they regretted rejecting his offer of a truce (they'd set their mage on him when he'd approached unarmed and bearing a white flag, and he'd only just escaped unsinged) they'd show no sign of it. Yet if his forces could capture their commander today, perhaps they could put an end to it all.

The archers' bows were notched; they waited only for Seth's signal to draw them and loose the arrows. With the enemy bows they'd recovered after the ambush at the canyon, they had a fine force of just over a dozen bowmen, though several were not expert in the use of the weapon. Though he had once been a fair shot himself, Seth had opted not to use one of the bows himself; his shoulder twinged more than a little when he tried to draw a bow in the cold.

Seth raised his hand. The archers drew their bows. He clenched his fist; they loosed their arrows. Screams, piercing as blade points, followed an instant later.

The mercenary force, taken off guard was thrown into chaos. Seth scanned their ranks, looking for their mage who remained the greatest threat to his forces. "There!" he shouted, pointing to the cloaked figure amidst the ranks of armoured men. "Get their mage!"

The mage appeared to be already chanting a spell but he was interrupted as a half dozen arrows rained down on him. Seth cursed as he dodged away. By now several of the mercenaries were scrambling up the embankment towards Seth's forces who were in possession of all but a few of their bows and thus left the mercenaries with little choice other than fleeing or trying to engage them directly. Seth stepped forward, sword drawn, prepared to cut down any who approached, though he kept a wary eye on the mage who remained unharmed in spite of his archers' best efforts. The rest of his forces were still several minutes away and he and the archers would have to fend for themselves until then.

As the first soldiers clambered towards him and he swung his sword to cut them down, Seth gritted his teeth. Pain lanced through his shoulder; spending a night in the cold, with little more than a blanket to keep off the chill of mid-winter, had its price. Ignoring the pain in his shoulder, Seth lashed out at their foes, those foolish enough to come at him when they had such poor footing. Did they think him an easy target because he wore no armour?

When he spared a glance in the direction of the mage it was only just in time to throw himself out of the way as a fireball shot in his direction. He found himself rolling down the steep bank and only came to a halt when his ribs thudded against a tree trunk. With a grimace of pain Seth lurched to his feet, his sword clasped in one hand, the other, steadying him on the three trunk. He tried to get his bearings. He was a few feet from the bottom of the embankment and there below (and backing up rather quickly) was the mage, another spell already on his lips. Revelling in the lightness of fighting without a stitch of armour, Seth leaped from the embankment. In one smooth motion, he landed with a roll and regained his feet, sword in hand and charging towards the mage. Seth cut him down before he could mutter the final words of the enchantment.

Chest heaving, Seth turned to face the scattered mercenary troop. Casting a glance up the embankment he saw orange flames consuming one of the scraggly pines where the mage's fireball had struck. He was uncertain whether his archers had been hit or merely thrown into disarray, but in either case, the intensity of their attack had diminished, with only a few arrows being shot into the enemy ranks. And there were quite a few enemies left, Seth couldn't help but notice as several of them turned their attention towards him.

When a throwing axe sliced the air, spraying the snow with blood, relief surged through Seth. Garcia, at the head of the ranks, charging towards the mercenary force, Kyle and Gilliam only a step behind and the rest of the troops with them– he could not have more thankful to see them arrive.

This time there was nowhere for the mercenaries to retreat to, and though worn, his forces had enough strength left in them to make short work of the enemy ranks. Soon the only ones standing were those who'd thrown down their weapons. There were fewer than a dozen of these.

The cold air burned his lungs as he drew breath. Sweat poured down his face; it was the first time in days that he hadn't felt cold. Blood, bright on the snow, took on a lurid hue as the sun sank beyond the hills. "Let's make quick work of this," he called to his troops. "There's little daylight left." It was with a great deal of uneasiness that they had followed his orders at first all those weeks ago. Stripping the dead not only of their weapons, but of their cloaks, scarves, and anything else which might be of use would normally have been considered sacrilegious, but Seth had made it clear that he was willing to sacrifice certain rights owed the dead in order to better care for the living. Now the soldiers moved about the dead with brisk efficiency.

"Take the packs as they are; we'll sort through the contents once we make camp." Gilliam's baritone drew a smile from Seth. He had good people with him; he couldn't imagine they would have survived this long were it otherwise.

Once the belongings of the fallen had been sifted through, it was time to move on and make camp. There was no time to bury the dead, either friend or foe, and the ground was frozen in any case. Their staring eyes were closed; that was the most the weary Frelian and Renais soldiers could do for their comrades.

Though night had fallen by the time they made camp, it was unusually bright thanks to the gibbous moon shining down on the bleak snowfield of the denuded valley. It was a pity clear nights were always the coldest, for the pearly lustre of the slopes was beautiful and for a fleeting instant Seth wished Eirika could see it. Yet he was glad she was not here. It eased his heart to know that she was safe in Renais. Often, in the dead of night, when his shoulder ached and the cold seemed to seep into his bones, he pictured her warm and curled up beneath the blankets of their bed. He tried to imagine what she might look like, how her belly must have swelled by now as their child grew within her.

Kyle was quick to hail him once things had settled. "Sir Seth, how fare you?" Was he imagining that Kyle looked thinner? He supposed they all did...

"I'm well. And you?"

"Well enough," Kyle replied with a curt not. He was silent then for a moment and Seth had to draw on his deepest reserves to keep his features calm and ask what needed to be asked.

"You have the tally?" He felt wearier than he had ever felt in all his years as a soldier.

"We lost three today." Seth closed his eyes a moment as Kyle spoke their names. They had had families, all of them. It was that infernal mage; if he'd only been able to kill him sooner...

"Did we capture their commander?"

"Yes. He gave up his blade. Better yet we got his map and it's far more detailed than ours," he added, raising his hand, which held a rolled up parchment.

"Good," Seth said. "That should make matters easier. What of their supplies?"

Kyle shook his head. "They have even less than we do."

Seth supposed he ought not to be surprised. After all, his forces had most of their bows and had been able to use them to catch game on several occasions. They'd even had a few deer and the meat had done his troops much good. They'd also been fortunate in that one of the soldiers in their ranks had grown up in the foothills of the mountains on the Renais side. He had had them boiling the needles of a certain pine to make a tea that would stave off scurvy during the winter months. And since the mercenary troop usually took the lead they were forced to break trail while Seth's forces moved in their tracks and could thus save their energy. Even so, it had been necessary to ration their supplies and none here had had his belly full since the first snowfall.

He and Kyle had begun walking across the camp towards the infirmary tent where Nayce kept watch over their three remaining patients. Though there were a dozen or so walking wounded, soldiers who could no longer fight but who could still march, three of the injured had to be carried in litters. When they arrived, all the patients save Syrene were asleep. Gilliam was there as well, still in his armour.

A smile spread across Syrene's face as she saw them. "Ah hello there. It's good to have visitors, scruffy as they might be." Kyle cracked a smile, which amused Seth enough to ignore her comment. "Gilliam just told me the good news." Syrene looked painfully thin to Seth's eyes, but that she had survived at all was astounding. Her legs, hidden by a pile of blankets, were still healing and she could not so much as stand up, but Nayce was hopeful that she would recover more fully once they were home and she could get proper treatment and rest.

"Hello, Syrene," Kyle said.

"Good evening, Lady Syrene," Seth said. "How fare you?"

"Cold, stiff, sore– the same as everyone else," she replied wryly. "Though you've been busier than I have."

"Well here's something that should be of interest," Kyle said, unrolling the parchment and handing it to her.

Syrene peered at the map for a minute, her brow creased. "This is much better than the map we were given. It's theirs, is it?"

"Yes," Seth replied. "Taken from mercenary commander."

She nodded without looking up at him, her eyes remaining fixed on the map. "We can plot a course much more easily with this."

"That's good news now that we'll have to break trail," Gilliam said, peering down at the map as he towered over Syrene. Weary as he was, Seth would have been grateful for a place to sit, but even folding chairs and stools were a luxury they could not afford to travel with.

"Do we know where we're headed yet?" asked Syrene.

Kyle glanced at Seth who nodded and the younger man straightened as he made his report. "The commander said they were given a secondary location to head to if they were unable to make the rendezvous. Right here south of the Caer Pelyn Range," he said, pointing to the location on the map. "Haren was supposed to meet them there if the snow came early."

"I see," Syrene said, nodding as she concentrated on the parchment.

Seth could not help but be glad to see her so focussed on the task. When she'd first woken after the ambush and learned of the death of her pegasus and of the graveness of her wounds, her spirits had seemed so low that Seth had feared she would not recover from the double blow. Since then, Gilliam and Kyle had taken it upon themselves to be her protectors and companions. They visited her every day and often carried the litter in which she had to be moved. Between the two of them they'd managed to put a smile on her face again.

"We'll need to make arrangements for our prisoners before we can begin marching tomorrow," Seth said. "You can study the map in the meantime."

"Do you intend for us for make for their fallback position?" asked Kyle.

Seth nodded. "Exactly."

Gilliam shifted, his expression even grimmer than usual. He had the air of a hawk on the lookout for prey and his stare was just as piercing. "It's risky. If they should have more forces stationed there..."

"I know," Seth replied, "but we've been charged with finding out who these men are working for, and if this Haren is waiting at that rendezvous point then I think there's ought we can do but follow him there."

Gilliam shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. "If we don't make it back home to pass on the information it won't matter what we learn here."

"We can send scouts ahead to see if there's a force stationed there," Seth argued. "If we can find Haren then we may find our answers and if we find shelter and supplies there we may make our stay here more bearable."

After several moments (during which Seth was almost certain that Gilliam did not even blink), the Frelian knight nodded.

"I'll make sure we have a good route," Syrene said. And then after a pause, "I only wish I could do more..."

"You've done more than your share," Seth said gently. "If it weren't for your actions during the ambush we might not be here to have this discussion."

"Thank you, Sir Seth," she whispered, her hand gripping her blankets until her knuckles were white. Seth bowed his head and tried to force back thoughts of lost comrades and of the ones at home he longed to see; he didn't feel as if he could bear his sorrows at this moment were he to dwell on them.

"Besides," Kyle added, after moment, his tone light and a smile on his lips, "you're our best cartographer. Anything that will get make travel easier is of great service to the entire company. Don't forget that."

She nodded, a smile on her own lips. "You're right, Kyle. Thank you."

Seth excused himself then and left to get cleaned up. Afterwards he chewed on his meagre supply of travel biscuits, drank down his pine needle tea, and retired for the night to the tent he shared with three other soldiers. Every tent was packed to capacity, both to conserve their own heat and so that they could travel lighter. After the first snow Seth had had them discard any equipment which was not essential to their survival. Extra tents fell into the _un_essential category.

Lying in the dark, listening to the wind's moan, Seth closed his eyes and tried to banish the throb in his shoulder by calling to mind Eirika's face. He thought of when they lay together and she pressed her lips against his scar. The wound from Valter's lance had come of trying to protect her and Seth knew that, to this day, she regretted his injury, felt responsible for his suffering. It was strange... He had never thought the blood he had shed that day would forever bind them together.

He let his mind wander over the lines of her face, the curves of her body; he recalled the taste of her lips, the way she called his name when they made love, the way she smiled when they were alone together, the vibrant rhythm of her steps when they sparred. And as he drifted to sleep he imagined her watching over him with their newborn infant cradled in her arms.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

The stone country house, where the mercenaries had been headed, was lavish by all but royal standards. With the worsening weather it had taken another two weeks for Seth and his forces to make their way to the small valley where the house was situated, just off the banks of a river (now quite solid) which ran down from the Caer Pelyn Range. Snowdrifts obscured the lower half of the first floor windows on the east side, but it looked like the main entrance had been kept clear, and a path had been dug to the outbuildings.

Snow crunched beneath Seth's boots as he trudged forward; he did not envy the mercenary troop who had had to break trail for so many weeks.

"General Seth, are you certain you want to go through with this?" Seth did not pause as Kyle spoke; it would only be more difficult to get started again if they stopped and they were almost there– another ten minutes and they could pause to catch their breath. "You'll be walking into the wyvern's den."

"I realize that," he replied, "but it's unlikely I'll be recognised until it's too late and I can handle a few guardsmen on my own." If it had been Ephraim who had proposed walking into an enemy lord's country home pretending to me a mercenary hired by said lord, Seth would have suggested that he reconsider, while privately believing it to be utterly reckless; in all likelihood Kyle was thinking the same thing of him. But if the risk gained them answers and allowed them to get control of the edifice then it was well worth taking.

When they drew near the house Seth came to a halt and with him the rest of the troop. "Make sure to check all the outbuildings and secure things here while I'm inside," he said to Kyle.

Kyle nodded. "Be careful, General."

Seth nodded and then stepped onto the cleared path leading up to the house. It was good to be on solid ground again; his legs burned from breaking trail. The door was opened for him before he even had the chance to knock and a man, whose neat but very plain clothes suggested he was a servant, stood before him.

"Good you've arrived. Commander Farril, I presume?" Seth nodded and stepped over the threshold as the man waved him in hurriedly, anxious to shut out the cold air. He wiped his boots, and was shown through a series of rooms, opulent even to eyes accustomed to the court of Renais. But then Ephraim's and Eirika's tastes, much like their father's, had always been modest for their rank. They appreciated comforts certainly, but did not choose to display the wealth of Renais through highly ornamented furnishings or ornately carved architectural detailing in their quarters. They appreciated the simple lines of the their forefathers' style. This lord's country retreat was bursting with gilt and silverware and ornamental baubles. Seth could only wonder what prompted such... gaudiness.

"Wait here," the servant said, pausing before a closed door. He knocked once and then entered, but closed the door halfway so that Seth could not see inside, though he could hear the man well enough. "Commander Farril and his mercenaries are here, sir."

"Good good. Show him in." Seth's heart lurched. He recognised that voice.

"Yes, Lord Guernic." It was only years of training and a lifetime spent in or around the royal court that allowed Seth to keep his air impassive. The servant nodded to Seth and motioned to the doorway. Seth stepped in, his heart hammering and his palms sweating. It took some effort to keep his hand away from his sword hilt.

Guernic's back was to him as he entered the room, as were those of the two men with him, who were studying a parchment laid out on a table– a map perhaps. The two men were armed and Seth took advantage of their distraction to size them up. With their dishevelled hair, bristly faces, and worn boots, they had the air of mercenaries rather than of a lord's guardsmen; guardsmen were never so scruffy. Rubbing the bristles on his own chin, Seth imagined he looked the part of a mercenary by now. Yet as he glimpsed their faces in profile Seth was almost certain he'd seen them before... Had it been the day of the riot? With Haren perhaps?

"Come in, Commander," Guernic said, still not looking up. "My two guests here came with news. Seems Captain Haren won't be joining us after all. The poor lad managed to get into a spot in Caer Pelyn. Tangled with the Princess of Renais no less."

Seth's heart leaped into his throat. "What?"

All three men looked up at him. Guernic's eyes widened and he stared for a moment before recognition set in, but Seth had already drawn his sword to face the advancing mercenaries. Guernic was dashing out of the room via the back door like a hare fleeing from a hawk. The two mercenaries stood in Seth's way. Seth did not waste words.

He swung his blade in a wide arc towards them, forcing them back between the tables and chairs. The first man came at him; Seth blocked and shoved him away, sending him stumbling over a footstool. He spun to meet the second's attack and his counter caught the man across the throat. The first man had scrambled to his feet but before he could get his sword up to protect himself, Seth struck him with the flat of his blade. He sank to the floor, unconscious, but alive for Seth to question later. Seth kept his sword at the ready as he charged after Guernic. Eirika... What had happened to Eirika?

He tore through several rooms, past a pair of bewildered servants and one guardsman who attacked Seth and was dispatched in seconds. When he caught up with Guernic he found the man at the far end of a cluttered room, rummaging through an armoire. Guernic spun, his face pale, his hands gripping something in the armoire behind him.

"It was you," Seth snarled, advancing slowly; he could not see what it was Guernic clasped. "The riot, the death of Elder Klimt, the war– you were behind it all. Was it all for revenge?"

"There are more important things than revenge," Guernic said, though Seth noted the tremor in his voice.

"Such as money and power?" Seth ventured, drawing closer.

"Naturally." And then, with a flourish, Guernic pulled a mage's tome out of the armoire. Seth sniffed at Guernic's theatrics, and continued to advance with caution; he still had an ornate table and two gaudy statues to make his way around and he wanted to be sure he had space to dodge any magical attacks Guernic could muster.

"I'm not without skills," Guernic said, but his hand, held out before him, was trembling. "My father was a great mage."

"Indeed," Seth said. "I was there at Hamill Canyon when we slew him." If she had been harmed...

A jumble of foreign words tumbled from Guernic's lips– the words of magic, though they sounded faltering and crude from him, whereas, when spoken by Lute or Saleh, they were as melodic as wind chimes. The air crackled and Seth danced away as a lightning bolt blackened the spot where he had been standing an instant before.

Guernic tried again and this time Seth could feel the static in the air, so close did the blinding white bolt strike. Seth surged towards Guernic who had again extended his hand and was muttering a third incantation. The bolt struck so close this time that Seth felt the tingle of it on his skin a moment before, and the blast knocked him off his feet. He landed badly and struggled for breath, the wind knocked out of him. But he was within reach of his opponent.

Backing away, Guernic cursed and began muttering the incantation again, but Seth scrambled to his feet and charged Guernic, barrelling into him at full tilt, bringing them both to the floor. The tome fell from Guernic's hands.

Guernic kicked out and connected with Seth's right shoulder. For a moment Seth thought he'd been struck by a mage's bolt as pain arced through his arm, but he managed to keep a grip on the fabric of Guernic's tunic. But Guernic, in turn, had managed to lay hand on the magical tome once more and was muttering a spell. Seth would not claim he was the least bit attuned to magic, but even his untrained ears detected the difference in the incantation.

This time, rather than a bolt of lightning, a fireball shot from Guernic's palm and Seth had to roll away to avoid it. It sailed across the room and set the tapestry on the far wall alight. Seconds late, the flames leapt to the divan below and the timber above.

Guernic froze, staring at the flames. His eyes fell to the tome in mute horror. He had used the wrong spell in his haste. _Damned novice fool! _The flames were spreading and thick smoke filled the air. Seth seized upon Guernic's distraction to close the space between them and strike the arms merchant across the face, leaving him dazed. He paused to retrieve his sword and then hefted Guernic over his shoulder and ran. The flames chased him like a thing alive, as if a malignant spirit drove them on. By the time he'd reached a window to escape through, the smoke was hovering like storm clouds and Seth's lungs burned from it.

Seth stumbled into the snow, grateful for the frigid air after the searing heat within. Guernic, in a heap on the ground, groaned while Seth coughed and swallowed a handful of snow to ease the rawness of his throat. When he looked over his shoulder to the house, he saw that the flames had already begun to consume the roof and had leaped to some of the outbuildings.

Still coughing, Seth waved as he glimpsed one of his comrades in the distance. Once more he heaved Guernic over his shoulder and went to join the main body of his forces. They seemed to be trying to form a water line and Nayce was chanting spells of ice, but Seth's heart sank; they could not hope to subdue a blaze of this intensity with only ice and snow. Fool! That damned fool!

Guernic groaned once again and Seth set him down roughly and began to shake him. "Wake up!" he snarled.

From the corner of his eye he saw Kyle approaching. "General Seth?"

"You can thank this man," he said, giving Guernic another shake, "for all our troubles." His voice was hoarse and it hurt his throat to speak. Guernic had engineered the war for his own gain, had been responsible for the deaths of countless soldiers including half of Seth's forces, and had now possibly doomed them all to starvation by destroying his own home, but the only thought that had any substance for Seth was that something had happened to his wife. He reached for a handful of snow and stuffed it into Guernic's doublet. Guernic yelped and his eyes sprang open.

"What do you know about my wife? Tell me," he demanded shaking Guernic so hard that his teeth rattled. Seth felt Kyle's hand on his shoulder but he shrugged it off.

"Nothing," Guernic squeaked.

"You said she was in Caer Pelyn, that she'd fought Haren." A crowd was gathering around them yet Seth could not find it in him to care.

"I– I don't know any more."

Seth whipped out a dagger from his belt and held the tip below Guernic's eye. "If you do not tell me what you know," Seth said, enunciating each word, "I will take you apart, one piece at a time." He had wished death upon his enemies before, but had never tortured a man; it was beneath a knight to behave so. But all his vows meant nothing if she was lost to him.

"General Seth!" Kyle's alarm mattered to Seth as little as the flames.

Sweat poured down Guernic's pallid face. "I– they–"

"Speak."

"The mercenaries I was with went with Haren to Caer Pelyn to cross through to Jehanna." He spoke very quickly, his whole body trembling. "They saw him fighting a woman who could only have been the princess. He–" Guernic broke off and licked his lips. Seth's blade pressed against the man's skin. Blood welled to the surface of the blade and trickled down the side of Guernic's face. "He wounded her."

Terror surged through Seth's veins and, for an instant, the world was frozen like a tableau from one of Forde's paintings. The line of blood oozing from beneath the tip of his dagger, the sun-burst orange flames to one side, the bleak whiteness of snow, the gleam of swords and armour: he was aware of them all in perfect detail, unnaturally vivid, piercing, painful... He could hear nothing for the roaring in his ears, but he thought someone was calling his name.

The world broke again onto his awareness, as frantic and noisome as ever.

"Sir Seth!" Kyle was gripping his shoulder, giving him a shake. Seth ignored him and turned his attention back to Guernic.

"How badly?" His voice trembled.

"I don't know." The whine of Guernic's voice grated in Seth's ears.

"How badly?" He realized dimly that he was shouting. His throat burned.

"I don't know! They said she faltered but that she rose up again to strike Haren and injure him badly but after that she fell. That's all they told me. They ran! They left them both there and stumbled back down the mountain. They were half dead when they got here. I know no more."

He let the dagger fall away from Guernic's face and staggered to his feet.

"Sir Seth..." Kyle began, reaching out towards him.

"Leave me be." Kyle's hand fell away.

The crowd of soldiers that had gathered around them parted for Seth as he strode towards them and past. He made his way to a grove of trees, trudged through the snow until he could no longer hear the roar of the flames, until it was so quiet that he could have been the only man in the valley. For a moment he drank in the stillness, the stillness of winter, piercing in its bleak beauty; of silence, complete and unending; of death. Something inside him trembled at the thought and before it could wash over him and sweep him away, Seth clenched his right hand into a fist and struck the nearest tree.

Pain lanced up and down his arm. Gritting his teeth so as not to cry out, Seth clutched his right arm to his chest and sank down against the tree trunk. He squeezed his eyes shut and turned all his attention to the waves of pain radiating through his knuckles and from his shoulder down through his lance arm until there was no room for thought or fear or grief. The pain had begun to dull slightly when someone hailed him.

"General Seth." Seth opened his eyes to see the stout figure of Garcia standing before him. The axeman said nothing else but sat down next to him in the snow.

"Sir Garcia." For a while they remained in silence. If it had been anyone else he would have turned them away, but Garcia knew this sorrow. Ah but he had had his son to temper the grief! If Eirika was lost and their child with her... Seth felt himself begin to tremble, though whether from the cold or something else he was not certain. "She was supposed to be in Renais. Safe," he murmured. "Why would she go to Caer Pelyn?" He squeezed his fist until his aching hand grew numb.

"She crossed half the continent to go after her brother during the war. Do you think she would do any less for you?"

Seth shook his head and tried bite back the words that threatened to slip off his tongue. How dare she endanger herself when he could not protect her! Herself and their unborn child. All the times he had pictured her safe and warm when in truth she might be– "She's with child. She should have stayed where it was safe."

"General," Garcia said, turning to glance at him, "why would she have any reason to believe Caer Pelyn would be unsafe? Master Saleh is there and he can heal most any wound. There's no reason to despair. What we've heard is little more than rumour and rumours are rarely the mirror of truth."

"Yes," Seth said, heaving a sigh. "You're right, Sir Garcia." But even so, fear and doubt gnawed at him. To not know what had happened to her, whether she'd lived or died was... precisely what Eirika must have felt when she'd learned he'd been trapped here. It was precisely what had driven her to Caer Pelyn. She had borne her worry by taking action; it was so like her. Fondness and sorrow intermingled as he saw her in his mind's eye; her devotion was as fierce as her blade.

"You know," Garcia said after a time, "when we had that chat during the war and I suggested you marry..." He paused and, when Seth turned to look at him, there was a smile on his face. "I never thought you'd aim quite so high."

This drew a wistful smile from Seth's lips. "I... could not do otherwise. Eirika means more to me than country, more than duty."

"Good lad," Garcia said, thumping Seth on the back. Seth flinched at the pain in his shoulder. "Let's go see what Nayce can do for you. The troops need you in one piece."

Seth nodded and, with a groan, got to his feet. He brushed the snow off his clothes and then followed Garcia back to the rest of the their forces.

**ooo**

The sky was overcast and the only light came from the glow of the campfires and the embers and small tongues of flame that still lapped at the ruins of Guernic's country house. But the firelight had no warmth for Seth. Instead, a cold, more chilling than the grasp of the frigid wind, seeped into his bones, drawing away heat and hope and joy, until he felt as hollow as the tumble-down ruins of the country house.

In the distance, the Caer Pelyn Range loomed, a solid black against the greyness of the shrouded sky. A deeper darkness he had never seen: the darkness of the grave. His heart lurched at the thought– that Eirika's tomb should lie in those mountains, that she could be... that she could have died, far away from him, and alone. In a rush he saw it in his mind's eye: her blood, a crimson splash on the snow, her eyes closing for the last time, and snowflakes settling on her face, covering her like a shroud.

His chest clenched. He wanted to scream, bellow his agony to the stony silence of the heavens, but he sat utterly still, his eyes fixed on the darkness of the peaks. They seemed to call to him, to lull the raging inferno of his thoughts, to bring to them the coolness of the snow. Their darkness was inviting when all the world repulsed him.

Darkness... His thoughts turned to a song, one he had heard long ago and whose air now slid, languorous, through his mind. _In darkness let me dwell; the ground shall sorrow be, the roof despair, to bar all cheerful light from me._ When he had heard the song as a young man he had marked it, recalled the words always, but it had been alien to him then– for he had never known despair so dark as he knew now. He was only half aware of his lips moving, murmuring the words.

"The walls of marble black, that moist'ned still shall weep." He could almost hear the languid strumming of the lute that had accompanied the song. It was dimly that he realized that the gravelly baritone stinging his ears and rasping his throat was his own. "My music, hellish jarring sounds, to banish friendly sleep." He registered the eyes of his soldiers upon him, and the silence that had fallen over the camp. "Thus, wedded to my woes, and bedded in my tomb, O let me dying live, till death doth come, till death doth come." The quaver in his voice stopped him a moment. "In darkness let me dwell." He finished the song in a whisper.

For a moment the silence was complete save for the crackling of the flames. "General," one of the men nearby began, hesitant, rubbing his bearded jaw and not meeting Seth's eyes. Seth should have known his name, but somehow in the flickering light their grimy faces were all the same, all ashen shadows in the darkness.

Seth's eyes turned once more to the northern horizon, and the knife-edged peaks of the Caer Pelyn Range. He had walked its valleys and scaled it peaks once before all those years ago. The way had been treacherous then. He remembered keeping watch over her; she had been pale and trembling by the time they'd reached the village. He'd been worried, and she, determined to prove herself. Determined to the point of folly. 'Twas ever so. Once she had made a decision, nothing could dissuade her.

And in that moment, Seth's decision, too, was made. If Eirika's grave lay in Caer Pelyn, then so, too, would his.

**ooo**

Kyle seemed surprised when Seth asked him to walk with him and the younger man's discomfort was obvious. Seth held his hands behind his back as he walked, his shoulders squared, though his lance armed ached even after Nayce's ministrations. Kyle's expression, even in the dim light, looked pained, as if he were trying to think of something to say and coming up short.

"Let me be brief, Kyle," Seth said, before Kyle could manage anything. "I intend to go to Caer Pelyn. I fear I'll go as mad as Orson if I don't learn what's become of Eirika."

"Sir Seth–"

"Let me finish." Kyle nodded. "I..." Seth took a deep breath. "I need you to decide what to do with our troops. I dare not trust my own judgement." He had never shirked his duty as a knight, yet this felt very much like an abandonment of those who served under him, of those whose lives and well-being had been entrusted to him. Yet even so... he could not at that moment bring himself to care; their faces were only those of shadows, pale shades without substance to him now. "I see only three options before you," he said. Kyle listened intently, never betraying any surprise he might have felt. "You can stay here, bide you time until the thaw and try return home; you can march north into greater Carcino and hope to find help in the villages there and risk the political fallout; or you can chance the paths to Caer Pelyn though they may be well nigh impossible to navigate until the weather grows warmer."

Kyle kept his expression neutral as Seth spoke. He remained silent for several minutes afterward and finally stopped in his tracks. "I've taken stock of our supplies. Even rationing what we have and hunting game, I don't think we have enough to last us until spring, especially not with the extra guests we've taken on." Along with Guernic who was their prisoner, they now had his three servants and his two surviving guardsmen under their care– this in addition to the captured mercenaries. Leaving them all for dead was not an option. "And we don't dare go north. If word reaches the Council of Elders it could cause problems for King Ephraim. I won't risk open warfare between Renais and Carcino for our sakes." Kyle paused a moment and took a deep breath. "If we try for Caer Pelyn we may make it before our supplies run out. We go with you, General."

"You remember how dangerous the mountain trails were, don't you Kyle? And we'll not have Ewan and Saleh to guide us this time." Nor even the two mercenaries who had travelled with Haren to Caer Pelyn and back. The one who had survived his meeting with Seth had not survived the fire.

Kyle nodded. "Better to take action and take our chances than to wait for death here. I'll tell the troops in the morning. We're headed for the Caer Pelyn Range."

**ooo**

The worst, thought Seth, was the perpetual din of the wind, rising and falling, snapping the fabric of the tent walls, making the support poles groan. Even exhausted as he was, he could hardly sleep while the storm raged as it had these past three days. If the dark rings beneath his companions' eyes were any indication, they had fared little better.

"I'm certain we must be here," Syrene said, pointing to one of the trails marked on the map. Soon, as they moved deeper into the Caer Pelyn Range, they would be beyond the point where the map could aid them.

"Are you sure we didn't end up on this trail instead?" Gilliam asked, pointing to another snaking line on the parchment.

"I don't think so, but then I didn't have the best view on the way here," she quipped. Syrene still could not walk more than a few paces on her own and had to be carried on a litter as they made their way through the steep mountain trails. If they had not passed this way before, they would not have been able to manage; they would have been hopelessly lost within days.

Seth shifted to let Gilliam have more space to inspect the map in the cramped quarters. The canteen tucked into his doublet was a lump of cold against his ribs. Since the storm had begun it had been impossible to light fires, making it difficult to keep up their supply of water, drawn entirely from melted snow. They had been reduced to using the heat from their bodies to melt the snow. Scratching at the bristle on his chin as Gilliam continued to discuss the troop's course, Seth thought of the daunting prospect of returning to his own tent across camp, of walking into the raging wind as it gnawed at the exposed skin on his face. They'd had several cases of frostbitten ears this week. His thoughts felt sluggish; perhaps he should drink more water, but he did not want to dig his canteen out from beneath his layers of clothing when he would soon have to venture back out again.

As another gust of wind made the tent groan, Seth wondered if Eirika was warm.

**ooo**

"Keep digging! They may yet be alive." Seth's fingers, even in their felt mittens, were seared with cold as he continued to dig through the densely packed snow left by the avalanche. Eight of their number were unaccounted for, buried or swept far away. The sky was clear and as bright a blue as he had ever seen it. Sweat trickled down his spine beneath his layers of clothing, leaving his doublet feeling sticky and hot, while his hands and feet ached with cold. The whiteness of the snow burned his eyes and left them sore and watering, but he continued to dig. Around him others were using pots, pans, or their gloved hands to dig for their comrades. Packs and supplies lay scattered everywhere.

"I found one!"

Seth spun as he heard the cry. Within a few moments Garcia, Gilliam and a host of others were together tearing a great gash into the packed snow. After five more minutes they liberated one of their comrades, a young archer who looked dazed but alive as he was pulled, blinking, out into the wide world. Yet seven more remained buried and with every minute that passed the greater the chance that the snow would become their graves.

His shoulder ached with every movement, but Seth dug until his fingers were numb and his strength and the daylight, spent. By the time dusk fell they had recovered five of their missing comrades, three alive and two dead. The others were not to be found. Though it seemed unfeeling to think it, Seth was equally grieved by the loss of supplies and equipment– for it could mean the death of them all.

Chest heaving, limp with fatigue, Seth slumped back against an outcrop of stone, desperate for more of the thin mountain air. It was growing colder again as the sun sank in the west, and his sweat-dampened clothes would do little to keep out the chill. He looked to the jagged peaks that loomed over them and watched the sun turn the orange stone to the rusty tint of dried of blood.

_Someplace where we could be together..._ That place was either there in those knife-edged peaks... or in the next world.

**ooo**

Seth had lost track of the weeks, of all sense of how much time had passed. It was still winter; that was the only measure of time that mattered. Progress was desperately slow and they had taken wrong paths, been delayed by storms, and cut off by snowdrifts. A journey that should have taken a fortnight, dragged on for longer, far longer, than two piddling weeks. Instead, their ascent had become an odyssey of torment. Sometimes, when his thoughts became muddied with pain and fatigue, he wondered if he had passed into the netherworld and was working off the weight of his sins by means of this endless upward march. Perhaps the heavens lay above, nestled in the vermilion snow-capped peaks.

"Sir Seth. Sir Seth?"

It took him a moment to focus on the voice that called him. His thoughts wandered further and further these days as he let his body do its work of taking one plodding step after another. Seth looked ahead to see Kyle approaching. The younger knight's head was wrapped in bands of faded cloth, giving him the air of a patient in a war camp without a proper healer. Kyle, like many others, had lost his hat in the last avalanche and he'd been forced to make due with what they had. It was strange to see him bearded; no one bothered to shave anymore.

"The scouts have found a good place to make camp," Kyle said. "There are some outcrops ahead that should give us shelter from the wind."

Seth nodded. "Good. Go on ahead. I'll bring up the rear."

"Yes, General."

Seth took a headcount as the scraggly men and women trudged along in the footsteps of the poor souls who'd had to break trail today. Draining as it was, it had become a rotating responsibility. The wind gusted down the slope and Seth pulled his scarf up over his nose as he waited for the stragglers. There was still one missing.

Glancing down the trail Seth saw that the last man had stopped and was kneeling in the snow. Concerned, Seth made his way towards him. He could not see who it was. Bundled as they all were in patched, sun-faded coats and cloaks, it was difficult to tell one soldier from another at a distance.

"Are you all right?" he asked, pausing next to the man who still had not risen. It was only by chance that he caught sight of the glint of metal at the last moment and leaped back as a dagger's blade lashed towards him. He saw the man's face– one of the mercenaries they'd captured all those weeks ago– contorted with rage and he leaped, bringing them both to the ground before Seth could draw a weapon of his own.

Seth's shoulder blade crashed against a jut of stone or ice, sending a wave of pain shooting through his right arm so that his fingers tingled and then grew numb. With his left hand he was gripping the mercenary's wrist, struggling to keep the dagger at bay. After only a few seconds he felt spent.

Both he and the mercenary were struggling for breath, but finally Seth managed to get the leverage to roll and use the momentum to force the dagger from the man's hand. The blade fell into the snow, but the man must have noticed the weakness of Seth's right side for he punched at Seth's shoulder. Seth, clamping his jaw shut to keep from crying out, lost his grip on his opponent. The mercenary scrabbled towards the dagger. Seth tackled him. His lungs were burning. His shoulder was a mass of white-fire. Flitting through Seth's mind as they rolled in the snow was the thought of how far this struggle was from the art of war he'd been taught as a knight. There was none of the boldness of a knight's charge, none of the finesse of a swordsman's strike.

His right arm was all but useless now, and, for a second time, his opponent got away from him and this time managed to retrieve the dagger. As the mercenary charged at him, Seth kicked out, catching the man in the gut and sending him tumbling backwards. His head struck a jag of stone.

All at once it was over and there was blood, bright against the snow.

An hour later, shivering bare-chested in Nayce's tent as the healer fussed over his shoulder, Seth's thoughts wandered to his wife. Had she had the baby yet? What would she think to see him, scrabbling on the ground, wrestling with a nameless man for his life?

He felt the tickle of the healing staff for the third time and then Nayce's cold fingers poking at his shoulder, sending jabs of pain through his arm. Seth grimaced in spite of himself. "Leave it be," he groaned batting away the healer's hand.

"Have you had pain in you shoulder for long?"

Seth nodded. "Since the war, though never this badly. " Without waiting for the healer's permission he reached for his things. The pain and stiffness in his shoulder was such that he could hardly put on his doublet and coat.

"The cold and this most recent bout seems to have aggravated the problem," Nayce announced. "You should keep from moving it as much as possible."

By the time Kyle came to make his report, Seth had his arm in a makeshift sling. Kyle's eyes hovered over it for a moment but he did not ask and instead spoke of the man who'd attacked Seth.

"His companions thought it was only discontent," Kyle explained. "He spoke often of revenge and said he'd prefer a quick death to starving on the mountainside."

"No one knew he had a weapon?" asked Seth, though with all the chaos of the avalanche some while back it would have been easy for the man to have acquired a weapon and hidden it.

"No. The others..." Kyle shook his head. "They're like the rest of us, too tired to think of anything but food and rest."

Seth closed his eyes a moment and let the weight of responsibility settle on his shoulders. He had led them into this purgatory of ice. Every life lost in these hills was as good as blood on his sword. Perhaps they should have gone north after all. Surely the threat of political fallout for their incursion into Carcino would have been easier to bear than the harshness of the mountains' winter? But he would not turn back, not if the very mountain rose up to strike him down.

**ooo**

The wind whipped at them mercilessly as they scaled the crags. The path they had travelled years ago was buried beneath the snow and they were left to pick their way between jagged bluffs and the crags of ice, moving ever upwards in the thin air.

Absently, Seth licked the blood from his lower lip where it had split in the dryness. Blisters needled his feet with pain, but he never slowed his pace. His right arm still in a sling, he was forced to rely on his left to help him steady himself when the footing was poor and when he had to lever himself onto an outcrop.

The days and nights were quiet now. No one had much energy to speak anymore. The crunch of their boots on the snow was the loudest sound on the mountainside. Increasingly he found his thoughts drifting to home, to his wife and their years together, how he had watched her grow from a darling child to a strong and beautiful woman whom he could not help but admire and love, how, against all odds and expectations, he had married her. Sometimes he found himself murmuring her name through cracked lips.

Seth paused as one of the soldiers next to him sank to his knees. "I'm sorry, General," he said, chest heaving. "This is madness. I can't do this any longer. I can't go any further."

Without a word, Seth used his left hand to tug the man's pack off. He slung it onto his back along with his own and then pulled the man to his feet. Seth turned and continued to trudge up the mountainside. He heard the soldier's footsteps join the others' a moment later.

He would carry them all if he had to. Anything just to see her one more time.

* * *

**A/N:** A couple of things I wanted to note. 1) Garcia's reference to having suggested to Seth that he get married comes from their support conversations. I thought I'd mention that for those who haven't seen all the supports. 

2) The song lyrics which appear in this chapter are from a real Renaissance-era song: "In Darkness Let Me Dwell" by English composer and lutanist John Dowland (1563-1626).

So did this chapter work for you? It's the chapter I had the most concerns about, and my beta and I had a long chat about several sections of it, which led to my rewriting a couple of bits and adding in one scene. Let me know how it turned out.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

Saleh had never been one to be easily surprised, but, when he set out for a walk along the edge of the village beneath the cloudless azure sky that afternoon, the column of scraggly soldiers he spotted trudging towards Caer Pelyn was more than a little unexpected. He was also rather startled when one hollow-cheeked man in a tattered cloak and faded doublet, a scruffy russet beard covering half his face, his right arm in a makeshift sling, staggered towards him and snagged him by the shoulder.

"Where is she?" the man snarled, his eyes wild. It took Saleh a moment to recognise his comrade of four years past.

"Sir Seth?"

"Where is my wife?" Seth demanded. "Where is Eirika?"

"Sir Seth, perhaps you should–"

He was taken aback when Seth shook him, a guttural utterance– not words; almost a growl– pouring from his throat. "Tell me!"

"The third house down the left path."

An expression passed over Seth's features as he spoke, one Saleh found difficult to pin down, but the wildness of a moment before had melted away. Seth released him and, without another word, stumbled down the village laneway. For a moment Saleh thought to follow, but, as he looked on the column of worn travellers who were embracing each other and falling to their knees, Saleh knew there was other work to be done.

**ooo**

Eirika turned as she heard the door swing open– and then froze in place, staring at the man silhouetted against the expanse of white outside. She did not dare believe her eyes.

"Seth?" she breathed.

In two long strides he crossed the room and swept her into his arms, crushing her against his chest. She clung to him, unbelieving. Tears streamed down her cheeks. He was trembling.

The bristle on his face rasped against her skin as she drew back to look at him. "Oh Seth," she whispered, touching his cheek. "Your arm, is it–"

"It's nothing."He looked so thin, so tired, but he smiled and she kissed his cracked lips.

He drew back and tangled his fingers in her hair, never taking his eyes off her. "I was afraid you–" His voice was rough and he broke off to cough and clear his throat. "We heard you'd been wounded, that you–"

She put a finger to his lips. "I'm fine."

His eyes shot downwards to her conspicuously flattened belly. "The baby?"

A smile spread over Eirika's face. She took Seth's hand and led him to the back room of the cottage where, next to a simple bed, rested a crib. Bending over it, she reached in and picked up the swaddled infant and cradled the child in her arms. "Seth, this is your son."

Wonder and surprise flashed over his features and his hand trembled as he reach out to touch the tiny face in the bundle of cloth. "He–" His eyes flitted to hers. He looked almost dazed. "He's ours?"

"Unless you have an identical twin brother that you haven't told me about then I think it's safe to say he is."

Seth's laugh was more glorious a song to her ears than any composed by the bards back home in Renais. Relief and joy and exhaustion were so thoroughly mingled in his expression that she hardly knew what to say first. Finally, she settled on handing their son to him for the first time. Accustomed to holding his niece and nephew, he was quite comfortable with his son, even though he only had one free arm, and the worshipful look on his face as he peered at their child warmed her heart. Their son had, by now, woken and was beginning to fuss– at being held by a stranger, Eirika realized with a pang.

"This is your father, Caradoc," she cooed to the child.

"Caradoc?" Seth breathed.

She smiled and brushed her fingers over Seth's bristly cheek. "You weren't here so I named him after your father. I thought you would like that."

"Eirika..." He returned his attention to his son as Caradoc began to wail. Seth rocked him and whispered to him and finally he settled down again. Soon Caradoc's eyelids were drooping.

"We should let him sleep," she said. With the greatest care, he handed Caradoc back to her so she could place him in the crib once more.

Seth's eyes remained fixed on Caradoc as he drifted to sleep. "He's so beautiful," Seth whispered. "And he's really ours?"

She squeezed his arm, smiling. "He's really ours, my love."

When he turned to look at her again his air was serious. "Why are you here? Why aren't you home?" He was running his fingers through her hair, stroking her cheek as if he could not believe she was real if he were not touching her.

"Sit down," she said, pushing him gently towards the bed. He sat and she took both his hands in hers. "After you went missing I had Vanessa bring me here to see if Master Saleh and the others could find some way to aid you. The day after I arrived I was feeling unwell– the mountain sickness again. I went for a walk and I ran into Haren. He's–"

"I know who he is," Seth cut in, his voice like mountain ice.

"We duelled. I was injured." Seth's hands clenched around hers. "I–" She hesitated and drew a deep breath.

"What is it?"

"I managed to disable Haren and get help, but I was bleeding and unwell to begin with and I began to have labour pains. But it was nothing. I was fine," she added hastily at the stricken look on Seth's face. "It was the effect of the fatigue and the injury, but even after Master Saleh healed my wound it was decided that I should stay here. They were worried the stress of travel could be dangerous to the baby, so I remained in Caer Pelyn. Everything was fine after that. After Vanessa got a message through to Ephraim she came back here and stayed with me. Caradoc was born two weeks ago."

Seth pulled her to him again, pressing his lips to her hair. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "I'm sorry. I should have been here. I–"

"It's not your fault. You're here now. That's all I care about." Eirika found herself crying against his chest, feeling overwhelmed by it all. She had come so close to losing everything– her life, her child, her husband– and now to have them all back, to have everything she loved, to know everything was all right again...

When, after several minutes, she managed to pull herself together and wipe her eyes, she realized several things had to be done, the first of which was cleaning him up and getting him something to eat. "I need to get a couple of things. You stay here, all right?"

He nodded. His shoulders were slumped and his elbows were propped on his knees. She had rarely seen him looking so thoroughly drained, as if he might simply nod off at any moment. "Eirika," he called out before she stepped out of the room. She stopped and turned. "Make sure the others are being cared for. Please."

"I'm sure they are," she said gently. She had not stopped to think of the others, so entirely had her attention been fixed on Seth, but now she found herself wondering about Kyle, Syrene, Garcia, and Gilliam.

When she emerged from the cottage the scene before her brought a smile to her lips. Everywhere, doors were opening and the villagers were bringing ragged soldiers into their homes or brining food and clean clothes for them. The people of Caer Pelyn had little enough, but what they had, they shared. The cottage she herself was staying in belonged to an elderly widow, Hestia, whose children had moved to the valley. She had been glad to offer Eirika the extra room during her stay and to help her with Caradoc once he'd been born.

Even as she was thinking of her, Hestia appeared and offered to take charge of preparing something to eat and keeping watch over Caradoc while Eirika tended Seth. No sooner had Eirika thanked her than she had disappeared into the cottage, seeming quite pleased to be able to help. When Eirika turned to attention back to the surrounding cot and cabins she noticed Ewan jogging down the laneway towards her.

"Hello, Lady Eirika," the young magician called out before he'd reached the cottage. His coat was opened and he wore neither hat nor scarf yet he was red in the face and, when he drew closer, she could see the sweat on his brow. "It's wonderful, isn't it? Come on. I'll get you some water," he said and walked right into the cottage.

"Ewan, what–"

"Oh sorry." He shrugged. "Mater Saleh told me to make sure there was hot water to get all the soldiers cleaned up. General Seth is here, right?"

"Yes," Eirika said, feeling a little dazed. At least Saleh had been able to remain collected in all the chaos. She herself was so heady with joy and relief that it was difficult to think clearly. All she knew was that Seth was alive and here with her and their son. She could ask for no more.

Ewan made quick work of hefting the cottage's wooden tub into the bedchamber where Seth remained in the same pose as when Eirika had left. She wondered for a moment if he'd dozed off, but he glanced up at them as they appeared.

"Good day, General," Ewan greeted him cheerfully.

Seth's eyes narrowed. "Ewan?"

Ewan nodded and turned his attention to the empty tub. He murmured a few words and then, with a flash of blue light, the tub was filled with ice. Eirika was about to question him when Ewan began another spell. A flash or orange and the ice had turned to steaming hot water– though how he had managed to melt the ice without setting the tub and the cottage aflame was beyond her.

"Thank you, Ewan. You've improved quite a bit."

He grinned and ducked his head. "Thanks, Princess, but I've still got a lot to learn before I can match Master Saleh." And then he was trotting off, ready to perform the feat in each home that sheltered one of the weather-worn soldiers. Eirika noted that Hestia had left towels and some spare clothes on the chest in the corner and she could not help but feel grateful to them all. The people of Caer Pelyn had done so much for her these past months and now they welcomed Seth and the others and cared for them without a second thought.

"Seth?" she said, sitting next to him and taking his hand in hers. His skin was like sand. "Let's get you cleaned up and then have something to eat, all right?" He nodded and heaved himself to his feet. She had to help him removed his coat, doublet, and shirt and he grimaced at every movement of his shoulder. They peeled off the layers of clothing and tossed them into the corner. They were so baldy worn and soiled after all these months that they seemed beyond further usefulness.

A sigh escaped Seth's lips as he sank into the hot water up to his nipples and closed his eyes, a look of blissful contentment on his features. Eirika was thankful he could not see the tears in her own eyes as she looked on his emaciated body. She could have counted his ribs and every notch in his spine. She wanted to throw her arms around his neck. That he should have suffered so... Instead, she reached for soap and a washcloth and began to work at scrubbing away the grime of four months.

She tried to be wary of the sores on his skin, but he winced now and then. The lines and curves of his body were so altered that she hardly recognised him as she ran her hands over his flesh. His bones seemed too close to the surface, muscle melted away from his once lean frame. But he was alive and she could feel the steady pulse of his blood beneath her fingertips.

**ooo**

Seth felt as if he was caked with grime and even he could smell the reek of stale sweat that clung to him, but the touch of her fingers on his skin was a balm, easing away months of aches and cold, even as she scrubbed the dirt and sweat from his skin. His eyelids drooped and he fell into daze. In his mind's eye he was back at camp, somewhere in the mountains. It was snowing. Soldiers were bustling outside the tent; he could hear the crunch of the snow beneath their boots. The wind wailed between the cliffs and crags, but for once he could not feel its chill touch. She was with him, washing the blood from his face, her hands caressing his aching limbs.

And then it seemed he was back home in his bedchamber. It was their wedding night and she was soaking in a tub of hot water to ease the ache of the loss of her maidenhead and he was with her, holding her lithe body against him. He trailed kisses along her neck and shoulders until she turned to kiss his lips and they made love again.

His thoughts sank deeper, further, wandering paths strewn with exotic blooms, their colours so vivid they seemed alight, to glades shining with morning dew, and on to shores silvered by slanting moonbeams.

When his thoughts rose from visions of gilded wonders and, with a delectable sort of languor, he opened his eyes, he wondered all the more– for there was Eirika, smiling, speaking his name. And it was everything.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

In all his life, Seth had never seen a spring as glorious as this one. The birds' songs had never been so animated, the sun never so golden, nor the sky so perfectly blue. In the distance, the pennants atop the towers of castle Renais, snapping in the breeze, seemed to wave to him, welcoming him home.

They had remained in Caer Pelyn until the thaw had thoroughly set in and Seth's surviving troops had all had time to rest and begin to recover from their ordeal. Vanessa had been hard pressed to leave Syrene's side, but soon after their arrival she had taken her pegasus and soared through the frigid mountain air again to get a message home and share the happy news. Thanks to her, a proper convoy with a carriage for Eirika, Seth, and Caradoc, and horses for the soldiers, had been waiting for them in Jehanna when the snow had begin to clear from the mountain paths and they'd made the final leg of the journey out of the Caer Pelyn Range.

Much like his son, for the first week Seth had not had the energy to do more than sleep and eat– and sometimes rock Caradoc in his arms. He could hardly describe the joy that rushed though him every time his son's small eyes opened and looked up at him as they did now. The rocking motion of the carriage as they moved along the roadway towards castle Renais seemed to soothe Caradoc, who had begun keeping odd hours and waking frequently at night– much to his parents' distress. Even so, it was amazing to pick him up, tend his needs, soothe him back to sleep, and know that he was Caradoc's father. He was a father. The very thought set him grinning ear to ear.

"I wish I'd been there when he was born," Seth said.

Eirika brushed her fingers over his cheek, smiling. It was a relief to him to no longer have a scraggly beard on his chin. "I know," she whispered and leaned her head against him. She was seated to his left so as not to bother his right shoulder, which was still stiff and painfully sensitive. "I have a present for you when we get home."

"Oh?" he said, eyebrows raised.

She smiled. "Wait and see." And then she pressed her lips to his.

When they arrived in the castle courtyard they found a crowd waiting for them. A cheer like a dragon's bellow rose from the assembled men and women. Servants handed Eirika down from the carriage and from there Seth handed her their son while he clambered out himself, stifling a groan at the stiffness in his shoulder. It was improving with the advent of the warmer weather, but slowly.

Seth smiled to see Ross pushing through the crowd shouting "Dad!" while Forde was clapping Kyle on the back. "You look terrible, Kyle!" Forde announced with a grin.

"And you look sickeningly healthy," Kyle replied, a wry smile curving his lips.

"Eirika!" The crowd parted for the King and Queen of Renais and the young princess who trotted along with them. Ephraim enveloped his sister in a hug and Seth was a little surprised when all at once he found Tana embracing him and Elin wrapping her arms around his leg.

"It's so good to see you safe," Tana said, beaming.

"It's good to be home," Seth replied. And then, with a smile, he reached down to scoop up his niece. "Hello, little one." She laughed as he mussed her hair. "Would you like to meet your cousin?" She nodded, her face gleeful. Soon they were all gathered around Eirika who held Caradoc in her arms and positively glowed as she showed him off to her family.

Soon half the castle seemed to have gathered around Eirika to catch a glimpse of the young lordling and offer them both their congratulations. Seth was relieved when Ephraim took him aside to the far corner of the courtyard.

"It's good to have you back," Ephraim said, clasping Seth's hand in both of his and shaking it. He glanced over his shoulder to where Eirika was still surrounded by a host of servants, friends, and comrades. "She'd never have forgiven me if anything had happened to you, you know."

"Of course, she would have," Seth replied. "She's your sister."

"Well I wouldn't have. Master Saleh sent word about the problems with your shoulder." Ephraim shook his head. "You should have told me about it. I never would have sent you out in winter if I'd known." He paused for a moment and, once more, Seth saw that certain look on Ephraim's face that reminded him of the late king, of how he would fix you with his eyes and make you feel he was peering into your soul. "Let me guess... that's exactly why you didn't tell me about it."

"Sire..."

Ephraim crossed his arms over his chest and Seth found himself uncertain whether he was dealing with the king or his brother-by-marriage. Either way, Ephraim's pose made it clear that he would brook no argument. "Seth, you're important to this kingdom, and like it or not your son is of royal blood."

"I know, sire." Seth bowed his head.

"Your experience in battle is an asset to Renais even when you're not on the field. As a king I need to know what your limits are so I can make sound tactical decisions... And as your brother I also want to keep you in one piece." Seth looked up to meet Ephraim's eyes. "Seth," Ephraim said slowly, "you're also part of this family. And, you know, you always were."

Seth's eyes wandered to the crowd still hovering around his wife and child. He managed to catch her eye for a moment and smiled.

"Thank you, Ephraim."

When the crowd had thinned out somewhat he was able to rejoin Eirika. The nurse arrived a moment later to take charge of Caradoc and Elin and it was only then, as he and his wife walked the halls of their home again alongside Ephraim and Tana, that he asked about the state of the things in Carcino.

"The truce is holding," Ephraim said. "We were lucky to be able to capture Haren when we did." His eyes wandered to his sister. Ephraim had certainly been worried; Seth knew that feeling all too well. "I only wish–"

"No," Eirika cut in, shaking her head. "I'm fine. We're all here now; that's what matters."

Seth glimpsed Tana squeezing Ephraim's hand. Ephraim darted a glance in her direction, gave a slight nod, and then continued. "We were able to tell them we'd caught the man who was suspected of poisoning Klimt. He's been stone silent, but it's been enough to keep the two factions from killing each other." He heaved a sigh. "There have been riots, though. Bad ones. They say Kartan city hall burned to the ground."

"All this because of Guernic," Tana said, hands clenched at her sides. "He's as bad as his father was!"

Eirika shook her head. "Gustav and Guernic both ended up carrying on the war their fathers began. It should have ended with the defeat of Grado..."

Ephraim sighed. "Now that we have Guernic it should be over for good. I hear he's been more willing to talk than Haren?"

"Indeed," replied Seth. The man had been willing to say anything to get himself out of the spot he'd been in. More than once Seth had been tempted to strip Guernic bare and leave him to fend for himself in the mountains. He deserved no less. "He's confessed to recruiting mercenaries out of Jehanna and bringing them in through his lands. He paid them, equipped them, and manipulated the conflict with them. He had them attack Frelian lands in order to escalate the conflict. The worse the fighting, the more he stood to earn in the long run."

"And Haren?" Ephraim asked.

"Haren was from valleys near Caer Pelyn but went to Jehanna to earn his living as a mercenary there. They met during the war. Guernic also confessed to paying Haren to poison Klimt and making sure Councilman Edvard took the blame."

For a time the only sounds were of the echos of their footsteps in the castle hallways and those of the guards and servants who saluted, bowed, or curtsied as they passed by. They came to a halt when they reached the doors to their respective quarters.

"Guernic stood to make a fortune selling arms, didn't, he?" Eirika said all at once.

Ephraim nodded. "And when it was over he would have been there to pick up the pieces. As one of the few councilmen who managed to remain neutral, the others would have looked to him for leadership once the conflict ended." He turned to Seth and gripped his left shoulder. "If you'd not gone south, he might have succeeded. Thank you, Seth."

Seth bowed his head. "I did my duty. Nothing more."

"You're officially on leave until further notice. You and everyone else. I want you to rest and train yourself up again. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sire."

"And," Ephraim added, a smile quirking his lips, "I fully expect you to spend obscene amounts of time with my sister and my nephew."

Seth smiled, his arm snaking around Eirika's waist. "Yes, your highness."

Ephraim nodded his approval. "Good. Now go and get ready for the banquet we're having in everyone's honour. We'll see you at supper."

**ooo**

"I thought I might find you here."

Sitting in the nursery, humming a lullaby to his son, Seth felt his heart soothed as it had not been by the toasts and songs in the great hall where the banquet was being held for the returning soldiers and their families. The Frelians would continue home in a day or two and ceremonies would be held for those who had not returned, but tonight was meant for celebration. Yet Seth had found himself ill at ease, even among the men and women he knew so well. He had eaten his fill– rather more quickly than was polite, he realized– and excused himself. He'd not thought Eirika would follow after him so quickly.

She stood in the doorway, smiling on him as he rocked their son in his arms. As had become her habit, she wore a sword at her side, and now more than ever he was thankful. Once again she had had to draw a blade to protect herself. Once again he had not been able to shield her from harm.

"How's our little darling?" she asked, coming to kneel beside him so that she could stroke Caradoc's face ever so gently.

"Quiet," Seth replied. "For now." They exchanged wry smiles. It had been an experience indeed to be responsible for his care with only Hestia's occasional help. Seth could only wonder at the peasant families with many children and neither servants nor nurses to aid them. How did they survive the nights of being woken by their infants' cries? Even so, he was thankful to be able to care for his son. Holding him, he felt he held in his arms the greatest treasure this world had to offer.

"In a little while the nurse is going to come in here and suggest we be on our way."

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

Eirika sniffed. "I'm told she has orders from my dear brother himself to make sure we let her do her job and take care of our son while we get our rest."

It would be strange to not have Caradoc in the room with them. He'd gotten used to it these past weeks, used to having those he most loved close by. He reached out and stroked Eirika's hair, and for a time they remained in silence, watching their son sleep.

"Syrene was looking quite a bit better today, wasn't she?" Eirika said after a while.

Seth nodded. "She's much improved." Though she was still unsteady on her feet, she could walk again and would fully recover given time. Tana had been almost as happy to see Syrene as she had been to see him and Eirika, embracing her quite thoroughly and making a proper fuss over her former retainer. Ephraim had been equally glad to have Kyle back at his side. There had been a great deal of joy– reunions at every turn... yet he had only wanted to leave as soon as he could.

"Seth?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you going to tell me what's bothering you, why you left so early?"

"I–" He broke off as the door opened with a creak and the nurse poked her head into the room.

"I think we're about to be banished," Eirika said. She placed a kiss on Caradoc's brow and whispered goodnight to him before Seth handed him over to the nurse who shooed them both out, reminding them that the king had ordered them to rest.

They walked in silence down the hall to their quarters. Their bedchambers seemed lavish compared to the simple cottage room they'd shared in Caer Pelyn. There, against the far wall, was their curtained bed, where they'd made love for the first time, where they'd conceived their son. It was here that he could most be himself, where he could shed his armour and be neither the General of Renais, nor the Silver Knight, but only Seth. Just as she could set aside the burden of her rank here.

"I felt ill at ease," he said finally, hanging his head.

Eirika reached out to brush her fingers over his cheek. "Why? You were among friends, comrades."

"I know, but I..." He raised his head to look her in the eyes, gripping her shoulders as he spoke. "When I heard you'd been hurt I was..." His hands clenched around her shoulders. "I was terrified."

"I'm sorry," she whispered. She put her arms around him and leaned into him. "I needed to know– or at the least I needed to feel I was doing something. I never thought I'd be endangering myself or Caradoc."

"I know," he replied, "but when I learned of it... The mercenaries didn't know whether you'd lived or died. After that all I could think of was reaching Caer Pelyn and knowing what had become of you. I let Kyle decide what to do with our forces. I'd have gone alone if he'd decided to go north instead. I'd have left them all behind just to find out what had happened to you," he said holding her face in his hands. "And now it shames me to sit and eat with them." A mirthless laugh passed his lips. "Yet even now I would do the same."

"Do you really believe that anyone would think the less of your for it? Do you think the others would have done differently for that matter?"

Her smile was as gentle as it had been in all his dreams and in the bleary visions that had wavered before his eyes as he'd trudged up the mountain on feet numb with cold, his head aching in the thin air.

"Eirika..."

"You're not just a knight. You're a husband and a father and a man– imperfect as any other." Her lips twitched for an instant. "Well perhaps not _any_ other."

"Yes but..." He sighed. "Those men and women were my responsibility. It was my duty to see to their safety and I'd have abandoned that duty."

"Seth, listen to me," she said, her tone serious as she moved to sit on the edge of their bed and pulled him down next to her. "When I duelled with Haren..." She paused, her gaze distant for a moment, and then looked up at him. "I offered to let him go," she said. "I knew he could be key to ending the war in Carcino, but I couldn't bear the thought of risking our child's life– not even for the good of an entire country. I'd have let him go."

He embraced her. He felt the warmth of her body against him, the heat of her breath on his neck, her arms entwined around him. "You should never have had to make such a decision. But I'm glad. I'm glad..."

"I was raised to bear the responsibilities of my position," she told him. "I would risk my life for Renais... but to risk my child's safety..." She shook her head. "I felt the same as you at first but I just don't see how I could be a princess first and a mother second. I pray Ephraim never has to choose between our kingdom and his children."

"You've been thinking about this for a long while, haven't you?"

She nodded. "I was in Caer Pelyn for three months," she explained. "Vanessa, Master Saleh, the villagers– everyone was very kind to me and kept me company, but even so I had a great deal of time to think. Which reminds me..." She rose and went to fetch something across the room. When she returned he saw she was holding what appeared to be a bundle of letters tied together by a ribbon. "Here. The present I mentioned."

"What..."

She smiled as she sat down next to him once again. "I wrote to you while you were away. I wrote all about Caradoc... and about everything that happened."

He untied the ribbon and unfolded the first letter. His eyes scanned the neatly written words, her penmanship elegant, practiced from childhood just as he had trained with a sword since he'd been old enough to lift one. The letters spoke plainly of her worry for him, her longing for his presence, and the growing awareness of the life inside her, of their child.

Having read through the first letter, he set it down and began the second. He was setting it down and looking to the third when the touch of her hand on his arm brought him back to himself. "I need to go back down to the banquet hall for a while," she told him.

He nodded. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice suddenly hoarse.

She smiled and brought her lips to his cheek, placing the lightest of kisses there and then departing without a word. Seth turned his attention back to the letters.

**ooo**

_Our comrades, our kingdom, Magvel itself– in that moment I'd have traded them all for the safety of our child. In that moment I was less a princess than I have ever been in all my life. Duty was as little to me as desert sand, bravery even less. I'd have fled if I could, even if it meant being thought a coward. All I wanted was to protect our child. How could I do otherwise? I wonder sometimes... In his last moments, did my father feel the same way? Did he think of me as his child or only as his heir? When he sent me away was it to protect his daughter or to ensure the survival or Renais' royal line?_

"Seth, have you been reading all this time?"

Seth looked up from the letter. He'd not even heard Eirika come in, so intent had he been upon her letter. This one had caught him somehow; he'd read it again and again, turning it over in his mind. It was like learning swordsmanship as a young man, like a manoeuvre he could not quite master, and repeated until it made sense to his limbs, to all the sinews of his body.

"Has it been that long?" he asked. "I hardly noticed."

"It's late. Everyone's heading off to bed." He had paused at one point to remove his doublet, but had undressed no further than that, unable to tear himself away from the packet of letters for more than a moment.

In silence, he watched her undress for bed. He admired the litheness of her body, the strength of her limbs, the curve of her hips and breasts, wonders none other could behold. His eyes lingered on her right shoulder where Haren's blade had struck. She had had Saleh heal even the scar and Seth suspected it was so that he would not be reminded of it and feel ashamed that he'd not been there to protect her, as was his duty and his desire. As a general of Renais her safety had never been his direct responsibility before the war. That had changed the day Renais had fallen and her father had told him to flee with her. Her father...

"Eirika?" he said as she finished dressing, for all at once he knew for certain what it was about the letter that had unsettled him so. She came to sit next to him on the edge of their bed. "This letter... could we talk about this for a moment?"

Concern marred her features, her brow crinkling, her lips thinning to a line. "Which one?"

"The one you wrote after facing Haren."

"Are you... angry with me?" The look on her face was one of such utter vulnerability that it tore at his heart and he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him.

"Never, my love," he said as he stroked her hair and revelled at the softness of her skin against his neck and the way her lips brushed his collar bone. "I only wanted to ask about your father." He could feel the tension in her body as he said it and he held her all the more tightly. "You wrote of his last moments when he ordered me to escape the castle with you. What brought that to mind?"

Eirika took a deep breath and then began to speak. "When I became with child I started dreaming about the fall of Renais... and my father." She kept her voice steady, but he felt the tremor that ran through her. He held her closer against him. "He never said anything to me the last time I saw him; he barely even looked at me."

"The castle was about to fall," Seth replied, cradling Eirika in his arms, knowing he was helpless to wash away the memory of that day. His heart grew heavy to think of it for he, too, had been helpless, unable to protect his king, his country; it had been all he could do to protect the one he loved. "King Fado– your father– wanted to see to your safety; it was the foremost thought in his mind. And..." His thoughts lingered on Caradoc's face, his dark eyes, and his tiny hands. "I think it must be very difficult to say goodbye to your child." For several moments they were both silent and in that time Seth gathered his courage. "There's something else."

She drew back to look at him "What do you mean?"

"That day..." He trailed off and cleared his throat, all at once wishing he were wearing his sword and armour. As it was, with him in nothing but his breeches, he felt more than a little disarmed.

"Seth?"

"There's something I should likely have told you long ago."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

Seth drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Let me start at the beginning." And so he did, for he remembered that day with a clarity so vivid that it might have been yesterday. After all, the entire course of his life had changed on that day...

**ooo**

"Now that I've told you about the bracelets you understand, don't you?" King Fado's voice resounded on the marble stone of the of the throne room, empty save for the two of them. The king's face, however, was haggard, dark circles beneath his eyes, deep creases in his brow. He seemed older today than Seth had ever seen him look, far older than his years. But then his son was missing and Grado's forces, moving towards the castle en masse. "If Ephraim should be captured, the bracelet Eirika wears will be all that protects Renais' Sacred Stone."

"I understand, sire." Seth remained kneeling at the foot of the dias on which the king's throne was set and he found himself thinking that his father must have knelt in this same spot the day, a decade ago, when he had been given his final orders. For a moment the king was silent and Seth waited to receive his own orders, his last in all likelihood. He was not a fool; he knew their forces were no match for Grado's army, and though Grado had once been their closest ally, they now attacked without mercy.

"Should Grado's forces reach the castle gates, I will remain here," the king announced. Seth steeled himself; he had prepared his entire life for this moment.

"Sire, I will fight by your side to the very end."

"No."

Seth's heart sank and his head, bowed until now, snapped up to look into his king's face."Wha–"

"Hear me." Had he been found lacking in some way? Had he unknowingly caused the king some offence? Yet there was no reproach in Fado's features as Seth searched his face for a clue as to his liege's intentions. Instead, his expression softened, the lines of tension melting away as he spoke. "She cannot lose us all, Seth," Fado said gently, with all the tenderness of a concerned father.

"My liege?" Seth said uncertainly. The king could only be speaking of Princess Eirika, and this unsettled Seth more than he liked to admit. He would give his life for King Fado, but for Eirika... There was nothing he would not do for her and it shamed him to think that his heart could so overreach his place; he was, after all, only a knight.

"Ephraim's fate is uncertain; mine may well be already sealed." Fado rose. He paced on the dias before his throne, his hands clasped behind his back. After a moment he stopped and looked down upon Seth, who remained kneeling. "You care for Eirika, don't you?"

Seth's stomach lurched and suddenly his hands were slick with sweat and his throat, dry. He found he could not meet the king's eyes; he instead found himself studying the patterns of the marble floor with great intensity. "Majesty?" he managed after clearing his throat a few times.

The king descended the steps of the dias and came to stand next to Seth. All his life he had lived in and around the castle, but never, even when being presented to the king for the first time as a squire, as green and foolish as any young man, had Seth felt as ungainly as he did at this moment. It was true that Fado had treated him like a second son, but even so...

"Seth, please look at me." Seth gathered his nerve and did as his king asked. Fado's air was earnest, but his face had none of the harshness in it that Seth had feared. He raised his eyes to the king's. "I speak now not as a king, but as a father. Please protect my daughter. You're a good and honourable man and–" He paused a moment and Seth went rigid as he felt the weight of the king's hand on his shoulder. "And I entrust my daughter to your care."

It was only when the attack on the castle began later that day that Seth fully recovered from the shock of Fado's words.

**ooo**

"He said that?" Eirika breathed. She was clasping his hands very tightly as if she expected him to bolt at any moment.

"Something to that effect." Seth heaved a sigh. "No... It was those words exactly. I could never forget. I was struck because–"

"Because," Eirika broke in, "those are the words a father speaks at a marriage ceremony when he gives away his daughter." She shook her head. "I cannot imagine my father choosing those words by accident, even when his thoughts were in turmoil." She paused for a moment, biting her lip. There was a flush to her cheeks when she looked up at him again. "Seth, do you think my father was tacitly... giving you his blessing?"

"I never dared to believe it then; it would have been impertinent at best. And yet... your father was a shrewd man." Had it been the king's words that had allowed him to hope, that hint of approval of feelings which, according to the dictates of rank and chivalry, would otherwise have been well nigh treasonous to act on? All he knew was that by the end of that day he had been fleeing the castle with Eirika in his arms and, for a little while, he had forgotten that she was anything other than the woman he loved.

"Why didn't you tell me? We've been married for nearly four years..."

He leaned his forehead against hers and sighed. He thought he'd banished these uncertainties long ago, but all at once he found himself aware again that he was with the Princess of Renais, a woman who should have been beyond his reach– yet he could feel the swell of her breasts through her nightshirt, pressed against his chest, her hip, close against his thigh. "It seemed... shameful that my feelings should be so transparent. That even the king should know..." A shiver ran down his spine as she pressed herself against his chest, her arms snaking around him, her hands coming to rest in the small of his back.

"Father always spoke well of you, and fondly," she murmured. "He never corrected me for speaking well of you either, never tried to steer me towards the other young nobles or one of the princes." Normally the very thought of Eirika being encouraged to marry one of the young princes would have made every muscle in his body tense, but with the way her fingers were trailing along his spine, he found it impossible to be anything but relaxed. "But I never thought..."

His own father had left him a proud legacy as a knight; he had been a shining example, one that Seth had striven to follow and to surpass, but he'd also left behind a burden of expectation. King Fado had given him some relief of that burden with his final words. "I'm sorry," Seth whispered. "I should have told you sooner. If I'd known–"

She put a finger to his lips, smiling with that tender earnestness he had always so loved in her. "That you were a knight didn't matter to my father. What mattered was that you're honourable and loyal." And then a laugh like the flowing waters of a newly-thawed stream in springtime poured out of her. She shook her head as if she could not bring herself to believe it. "Even at the end... he was still my father." She squeezed him tightly, a broad smile still on her face. "Thank you, Seth," she whispered. "Thank you..."

Seth basked in her joy. In his final moments King Fado had wanted only his daughter's safety and her happiness. Seth knew this, though it had taken him a long while to accept that her happiness could truly lie in him. It had seemed too incredible, too unlikely... too perfect to believe.

Seth leaned in and kissed her, long and deep, until they were both breathless. For the first time since he'd returned to her, he could feel the blood surging through his veins at her closeness.

There was a crooked smile on her lips as she drew back to look at him. "You _are_ feeling better, aren't you?"

"Much," he said and then his lips were pressed against hers once more. His shoulder was still stiff and he knew he was unnaturally thin, but his awareness of these things ebbed away as his hands wandered her body while her fingers seemed to burn a trail along his bare skin. When they broke apart again she drew away for a moment, her hand on his cheek, her eyes boring into him.

"What it is?" he asked, his voice husky. The warmth of her so close to him and the softness of her skin beneath his fingertips was making it difficult to concentrate. "What are you thinking?"

**ooo**

"What am I thinking?" Eirika repeated.

She smiled at him, for in that moment he was all things: doting father, darling husband, gallant knight– friend, lover, confidant.

"Nothing," she said. _Everything_.

And then she kissed him and there was no more talking.

**THE END**

* * *

**A/N:** I want to thank everyone who took the time to review (and those who will in future). One of the reasons this story went from being little more than a few vague notions floating around in my brain to an actual story, is the comments I got on "Tarnish." So let me know what you thought of this one. If you've got any constructive criticism to offer, feel free. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it! 


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